The Unwanted
by SnapeJuice
Summary: [COMPLETE!] Leah, daughter and witness to the unhappy marriage between her parents, Draco and Ginny, is transported back in time with her little sister in order to save themselves from an unknown adversary. D/G [COMPLETE!]
1. Ordinary People 1980

**** "I'll get you, and your little dog too!" screeched Leah Malfoy, in an exact imitation of the Wicked Witch of the West from the Muggle movie "The Wizard of Oz."  
  
"No, never! You'll never take Harriette from me!" defended her little sister, Rachel. "I love Harriette. And just like Harry Potter's mother saved him, I'll save Harriette! Just go away, Wicked Witch."  
  
Leah, in mock contemplation, rested on her haunches as Rachel scampered backwards towards the back end of her bed, her doll Harriette lodged between the protective seven year old and the wall. "Well, if you are willing to save Harriette as Harry's mother saved him, I guess she's special enough. I will let you keep her."  
  
"Really, Wicked Witch?" Rachel asked, beaming, as if her defeat of the Wicked Witch were on par with David's defeat of Goliath. "Am I that strong and scary?"  
  
"Indeed, Rachel. I heard some scary things about you from the other Witches who I play mah jong with on Sundays - they said you take your older sister's diary sometimes and read it, and that you have been known to pull on Pooches' ears a lot, even AFTER he starts whimpering," answered Leah.  
  
"Leah, you're so silly," responded Rachel, breaking the charade. She scampered to the floor and sat next to her older sister. "That was fun. What're we going to play next?"  
  
"In a little while, Rachel. We'll play in a little while," Leah whispered, getting up from the floor. She looked adoringly at her younger sister, the one constant in her life. These instances of silliness were few and far between since Leah had received her invitation to attend Hogwarts one year ago. Summer hols were in full swing, and she was babysitting her younger sister as she did most breaks.  
  
Her father had burrowed himself in his office at Widikul Enterprises, the first such venture of it's a kind, an attempted cooperation between two conglomerates - one Muggle, the other her father's third child, as he liked to refer to it (and his favorite, as Leah liked to refer to it), a business in the wizarding world, simply entitled Malfoy. Her mother, on the other hand, had many obligations to her astoundingly large, and at the moment, ailing, extended family, along with other social causes. And as her parents had put it to her, Rachel asked about her all the time, and babysitting would allow the siblings to spend time with each other while freeing up even MORE time for the older Malfoys to pursue their own interests.  
  
Of course, these interests never included each other, Leah noticed wryly. They barely talked, and in all the years she could remember, her parents had never sat down to have a decent conversation that did not end in a fight. In the great scheme of things though, Draco and Ginny Weasley-Malfoy did have a very reliable marriage, almost like that one tree you stand under at a bus stop on especially sweltering, sunny days - the kind you don't notice until it gets cut down.  
  
"Gods, Leah, you zone out too easily," chastised a very frustrated Rachel, stomping out of her room, towards the kitchen, no doubt to fetch herself some homemade Butterbeer (if, provided, your definition of homemade is something conjured up by a father buried under ten feet of paperwork in lieu of taking his girls out to the ButterShoppe.)  
  
Leah did not like to think about the status of her parents' marriage, but sometimes when a metaphorical three-headed dog stares you in the face, you need to acknowledge it. They were not happy. The dimwitted wizarding press, of course, could not, because the Malfoys made all the right appearances, spewing all the blurbs fit for print by the wizarding tabloids. And she thought of how she fit into the equation; if only she herself, Leah, had not been conceived, her parents would never have had to marry and their lives would have been drastically different - dare she say, happy? Whereas Leah had been the mistake, Rachel had been a happy surprise, in Leah's mind. The piece Draco and Ginny had never known they had needed to complete the puzzle - solidify the appearance of a happy family.  
  
Quite simply, her existence on this very Earth had caused the Malfoy family's woes, for without her, there would have never been a Malfoy family. 


	2. Unforgiven 1992

The front door to Malfoy Manor opened abruptly, causing Rachel, nestling herself into Leah's side, to jump three feet in the air. A whirl of blonde hair and an upturned nose leading the way, Rachel leapt up immediately, hollering, "Daddy! You're home early!" She ran towards her father, a monstrously intimidating man in the business world, putty in the sight of his two daughters. Tall and toned, he bent down and scooped Rachel up at reflex, looking over the shoulder of his koala-like progeny whose hands had clamped onto the back of his neck, eyeing his older daughter as she sauntered his way to give him a welcome home peck on the cheek.  
  
"Well, that was a nice homecoming," he joked, squeezing Rachel tightly as he brought her downward in a futile attempt to release her. He used his other hand to hug Leah for a few moments before saying, "Rachel, now, Daddy's tired and his back isn't like it used to be. You need to get down before I collapse."  
  
"If you collapse, that means you'll be on the floor, right?" Rachel asked, as her feet touched the ground.  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Cool, then I'd be taller than you," she laughed. The three of them walked towards Draco's home office as he put down his briefcase, him explaining that he felt he needed to spend some time with his "little ladies." "Does that include Mummy?" queried Rachel.  
  
"Well, Mummy's not that little, is she?" Draco responded, flashing a smile that could light all of London for a million years. Heading back towards the living room, the three of them stopped when Ginny walked in the door. "You're home early."  
  
"As are you. I thought I'd come home to catch up on some paperwork. All work and no play makes Ginny a dull girl," she said. "Well, babies, no hello? No kiss?" Rachel responded with a massive hug expressing her relief at her parents' homecoming; Leah offered an obligatory kiss. She was still bitter at her mother for forgetting their planned trip to Diagon Alley for school supplies. "Sweet, are you EVER going to forgive me? Your grandfather was sick that day. The boys are all away with their families, Granny Molly's sick too. They needed someone. I was busy. it slipped my mind."  
  
An owl flew through the door just seconds before it slammed shut, in its claws an envelope with "Widikul Enterprises" emblazoned on it in its unforgettably bold font. Draco untied the message and sent the company owl on its return trip. Reading it, he looked at his family apologetically. "Problems in the Muggle sector," he mumbled, straightening his robes. "Sorry, girls, I need to get back to the office." With that, he ran back for the briefcase and zoomed out the door.  
  
Ginny headed towards her study on the second floor of Malfoy Manor. "I have to jet too, kiddos. I need to finish this paperwork desperately for your grandfather. Ministry stuff he just cannot do himself, not with him feeling the way he does. Leah, you can take care of dinner, right? Just magic yourself whatever you are in the mood for." She stopped for a moments and looked downward, "And include some vegetables. And nothing that contains the phrase 'Now more fudgier than before' on its packaging."  
  
Rachel's excited face fell. Not only was the prospect of spending a night with both her parents ruined; she couldn't even have a bowl of Fudgy Chocolate With A Little More Fudge Thrown In ice cream for dinner.  
  
***  
  
Leah felt queasier than she did before. Both she and Rachel had not been feeling well all day, but the cranberry tart following the microwavable Yunik Salad had not gone down as well as they had hoped. She stared at her younger sister, who looked as bad as Leah felt. Pale and clutching her stomach, Rachel was complaining of a stomach ache, and all the typical cures (Cicithistle root mixed with parts toad wart to taste, rutabaga extract and even the Muggle medicine NoPuke ) were not working.  
  
They moved to the living room slowly, relying on each other for support. Leah attempted to communicate with her mother, but all the yelling could not penetrate their mother's love of the Muggle band Def Leppard ("Girls, remember, the only good rock music is British made"), which "helped her concentrate" whenever she was in her study. Leah sat on the couch, silently cursing her mother when she noticed that Rachel was no longer responsive, her eyes closed with her head slumped downward on the armrest of the family Levitating Lounger. "Rachel?" she questioned, moving as fast as her weak legs could carry her. "Rachel? Answer me, baby. This isn't funny. Come on, wake up." The gentle prodding of her little sister slowly went to insistent jabbing, but still no response.  
  
The Malfoy-invented Lounger did its job admirably, raising itself higher as its supposed to do when company approached, making sure the invader knew who was better (for a subject never towers over a king, as Draco was fond of saying.). "Get down here, you stupid piece of furniture," she instructed, trying to balance her fear, nausea, and frustration at leaving her wand on the other side of the room. "Rachie? Rachie, come on, wake up, baby," she pleaded as the chair went upwards, causing her to tiptoe in order to let her fingertips brush her sister's dangling feet. Her mind split into a million different pieces, Leah desperately tried to remember the spell to bring her wand to her.  
  
Leah's eyesight went blurry unexpectedly and she lost her balance, landing squarely on her rump. Tears falling from her eyes, she let the blackness she somehow knew was coming consume her as she too lost consciousness. 


	3. Midnight Cowboy 1969

Leah woke up with a massive pain shooting through her head. Looking around, she took in the dark décor. This was not where she was BEFORE the blackout. She had been at home. Rachel and her had just eaten dessert. Rachel. Rachel! She had blacked out. Leah jumped up from the concrete floor she had landed on, looking around desperately for any sign of her baby sister. Her racing heart hit the finish line as she spotted the tyke curled up in a ball not a few steps from her, her head resting on her arm, the other one clutching an invisible Harriette. Feeling stronger than she had before the location change, she struggled across the room to her sister, whispering, "Rachel, Rache? Come on, wake up."  
  
Her eyes fluttered open immediately and surveyed her surroundings. "Leah, where are we?" Leah, overjoyed at the prospect of her being alert once again, did not even register the question. She took the gray, dingy hallway into perspective. There were locked doors on either side. "I don't like it here, Lee. I want to go home."  
  
They creeped further down the hallway together, scared and still weary after their plight. If she didn't know any better, she would say that they were at . . . but why? No, they could never be there.  
  
  
  
Suddenly, they stopped, hearing footsteps down the hall. Someone was coming; the footsteps were brisk and as it came closer, Leah recognized it as two people, whispering and giggling. A high-pitched female voice and a deeper male one. As the voices got louder, Leah was sure they were going to round the corner soon.  
  
Leah's first instinct was to run backwards, to the black area where they could not be seen, dragging Rachel behind her. Before Rachel could protest, Leah instructed, "Shhh, we don't know where we are. Into the shadows. Follow me." Rachel knew when Leah meant business, and this was no time to throw a tantrum.  
  
They ducked down, surrounded by blackness as a pretty young brunette girl in Hufflepuff robes and a blonde haired boy came into view; they paused briefly as he bent down to kiss her in a most unappealing way, the brunette pulling his head down, tongues clearly visible to the children a corridor down. "Is she eating his face?" whispered a horrified Rachel. Leah suppressed a giggle as her sister bemoaned the picture before them with a constant stream of "eeew."  
  
The girl pulled away, pushing the blonde boy's hair out of the way. His face was still half in darkness, although Leah could clearly see the brunette as being very beautiful. "You were good tonight, baby," simpered the Hufflepuff. "Cowboy, you can ride me anytime you'd like."  
  
"I aim to please," the boy answered, rather egotistically.  
  
Leah's ears perked up. The voice was extremely familiar. Rachel clearly recognized the voice also, as she started, "That voice, that voice belongs to-"  
  
"Hush, Rachie," commanded Leah. She needed to figure out whether these people were people who could possibly help them.  
  
"Alana, we need to call it a night - perhaps we can make a date to see each other sometime soon." His voice clearly expressed that no such thing would ever happen in the near future.  
  
"But - I thought . . ." sputtered the girl named Alana, "I thought we were going to make a night of it in the Astronomy Tower. 'You, me, over and over? You're special to me.' Isn't that what you told me?"  
  
"What can I say?" The boy released her from his grasp. Leah could clearly see the date was over, and the poor girl, rejected, was the last thing the boy wanted in his sight. "I lied." The girl had tears streaming down her face (Leah painfully sympathized with the puffy eyed Hufflepuff), but unable to form a sporting comeback, she took off running - towards the Hufflepuff Tower, Leah surmised.  
  
The boy, alone, stood there for a second, clearly taking in what had just occurred, before stepping in the direction of the dormitories, towards the girls huddled in the blackness. Leah had long figured out that were in the Dungeons of Hogwarts - the Potions room was somewhere close by. She panicked all of a sudden, not wanting to be seen by what was obviously a student and answer a roundabout of questions. The moon bathed the dark hallway in a soft light.  
  
"That voice belongs to-" attempted Rachie again before Leah clamped a hand on her mouth.  
  
The boy stepped into the moonlight.  
  
Leah gasped.  
  
Rachel made a break for it, running towards the blonde haired boy with a patently confident look on his face. Leah had no chance to keep her close.  
  
"That voice belongs to - DADDY!"  
  
"DADDY!" echoed down the corridor as the whirlwind called Rachel made her way towards Draco. The blonde Slytherin did not even know what was coming before a minute person no taller than a house elf clamped herself onto his leg. Leah sprinted right behind her, so absolutely relieved to see her father. Her father would make everything all right. Her father ALWAYS made everything all right.  
  
As if a rabid dog had just attached itself to his leg, Draco attempted to remove the child so ferociously grabbing at his limb, kicking futilely. What Draco did not know was that Rachel was graced with his fine upper body strength. "What in Merlin's beard is going on here? Get off me, you little rat!" he screamed.  
  
Leah paused. Her father would never react like that. Something was very wrong. She bent down towards Draco's well-buffed shoes, whispering, "Rachel, let go, please. Dad said so." At her sister's behest, a fearful Rachel got up and ran behind Leah, afraid of her father for the first time in her short life. She sized up this boy with a younger version of her father's face. Well kept clothing, blonde hair in place with what must be a pound and a half of Hair Keeper, gray eyes not unlike the ones she saw in the mirror. He was her father all right, but younger, ruder, and a whole lot more difficult to be around. What was going on?  
  
"What house are you in?" Draco asked, peering down at the redhead, obviously a first or second year and her blonde. . . sibling, was it?  
  
"Ravenclaw."  
  
"Typical," snorted Draco. "I expect nothing else from you twits. And the rat? I assume she does not attend Hogwarts with us?"  
  
"You're a smart one, you are," responded Leah, venom spouting. "Unless she was - gods forbid - a mini ogre masquerading as a little girl?"  
  
"I do not need any cheek from a first year and her sidekick. When you talk to a Prefect, you talk with reverence." This version of her father sounded exactly as she had heard him the few times she had visited Widikul, listening in on business meetings.  
  
Rachel took this opportunity to get her sass back. "And the name is Rachel, Daddy, not rat."  
  
Draco sighed contemptuously. "I am not your father, rat." He looked at Leah. "Does she have some comprehension problems?" There was no pause for an answer. "Your names? Rachel and . . ."  
  
"None of your damn business." Suddenly, she saw in her father everything that Uncle Bill, on the few times they had been together at a family gathering, detested her father for, and this boiled in her veins. He was gruff and rude . . .to two girls whom he had never met before.  
  
"You do NOT speak to a Prefect like that. You do NOT speak to a Malfoy like that," in an eerily sinister voice.  
  
"Why not?" She stuck out her hand and threw all caution to the wind. "Pleased to meet you. The name is Leah Malfoy, and my little sister Rachel Malfoy." He gasped. "We ARE Malfoys - well, to be more specific, your daughters. Perhaps the impeccable bloodlines allow us to speak to you like that."  
  
His eyes widened.  
  
And then he became desperate. To say something, anything, to somehow ignore what these two little girls that resembled him had said. "But you're in the halls after hours. Professor Snape will surely take major house points from Ravenclaw."  
  
"Don't be stupid, Dad," responded Leah. "You take house points off Ravenclaw, then I'll be forced to go to Dumbledore and report where YOU were when you found us. Cozying up to some Hufflepuff underling? For shame. And out of your dorm past curfew. I sense some major point loss for Slytherin. Don't you?" She looked at Rachel.  
  
"At least fifty points. Maybe even a hundred for making her cry!" shouted Rachel excitedly.  
  
The redheaded one surprised him with her cunning. If they were Malfoys, then they were indeed chips off the old block. The two of them stood defensively, hands crossed, smirking, gray eyes sparkling, clearly sure that they had won this battle. He laughed internally: they looked exactly as he did whenever he had encountered Harry Potter. Draco knew he had lost but was unwilling to deal with his offspring (his offspring?!) right now. "Let's go to Dumbledore, the ancient beast will know what to do. And you mention anything about where I found you and you will suffer pain unlike anything you have experienced."  
  
"'K, Dad," answered Rachel, perhaps instinctually taking his hand as they walked towards Dumbledore's office. "And when you say pain, you don't mean you are going to get Uncle Vince and Uncle Greg to beat us up, right? 'Cause I don't think they'd do that. They don't hit little girls, only tickle 'em."  
  
Uncle Vince and Uncle Greg? What in the name of Voldemort was going on? Crabbe and Goyle would never touch these two little girls. His weapons were useless against Rachel and Leah, even if they weren't his children as they claimed. He quietly led them upwards to the faculty end, looking thoroughly defeated.  
  
*******  
  
"I've been to Dumbledore's office only once, and I remember it being somewhere around here," Draco muttered, frustrated that the rat would not let go of his hand. He found it, said the password ("Sherbet lemon!"); the staircase revealed itself, and the three of them climbed it.  
  
It was brightly colored, with a bird in the corner. Adorned with books and little knickknacks Leah had never seen before, she was immediately mesmerized.  
  
"Where are we?" Rachel asked, walking towards the beautiful red bird in the center of the room.  
  
"Why, child, you are in my office," came a playful voice from behind them. They looked behind them instinctually, as Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore presented himself.  
  
"Professor Albus Dumbledore!" Rachel said with a sense of awe in her voice. She had never actually MET any wizard from her Chocolate Frog card collection. Leah smiled. This place was not dangerous, it was a safe haven. There was no need whatsoever for her to be afraid.  
  
"So you two have arrived!" he started, clapping his hands joyfully. "We have been expecting you for some time - both of you, Leah and Rachel." Draco cleared his throat, waiting to be acknowledged. "And Mr. Malfoy! Thank you so much for bringing the children here. I am sure Professor Snape will give you no trouble upon your return to Slytherin Tower."  
  
"Are they - are they who they say they are?" Draco questioned quietly.  
  
"Leah and Rachel? Of course they are! Unless you two have different names your parents call you by?" Dumbledore scratched his head, confused.  
  
"No, I mean, I mean, are they Malfoys, like they said?" He stuttered the question, then shielded his eyes, as if dreading the answer.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, sometimes it is easier to deal with fiction rather than fact. I hope you are one of those Slytherins who has a strong grasp on reality." He paused for a second. "Leah and Rachel are indeed your children. Born in the future." Leah noticed that Dumbledore did not tell him WHEN she would be born. Her father was a Prefect, a Seventh Year. By doing simple math, Leah would be born not long after the end of his graduation from Hogwarts. "I would appreciate it if you would not say anything to anybody about this. Especially to your fellow cohorts in Slytherin or Gryffindor. Now if you'll excuse us-"  
  
Draco clearly had more questions, but at Dumbledore's unsubtle insistence, he slinked out. "And sisters Malfoy, you will no doubt be encountering your mother here at Hogwarts. Telling your father who you are is one thing - he is so petrified at the moment, I doubt he will tell anyone, your mother though is a different story. I trust you will not divulge your identities - your last names - to her right now. She has been through much too much recently . . . I need you two to do that for me."  
  
Leah took this in, and retreated into sleuth mode. She needed to find out what was going on. "The headache, the blackout, the queasiness - was it all your doing, Professor Dumbledore?" Leah asked.  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "The headache, yes. The blackout, yes. The queasiness, no. All your doing, my dear. I had no role in you two consuming three cartons of Fudge-eriffic following your cranberry tart."  
  
"Where are we, Professor Dumbledore? Hogwarts, obviously, but my father - he, he is very, very young."  
  
"Why, we have brought you 13 years in the past." He gave the girls a moment to take this in. Rachel, befuddled as ever, had enough sense to wait and ask Leah what EXACTLY was going on here later when they were alone.  
  
"Why are we here, Professor? School does not start for at least another month, and besides, Rachie is years too young to attend."  
  
"Sometimes, the answers we seek are not found in the solution, but in the journey to find it," answered Albus in typically cryptic fashion. "Be rest assured, though, that your presence is absolutely integral to the situation at hand." He sat down in his chair behind the desk, reading a piece of parchment, a sure sign that this conversation was over.  
  
Leah stood there puzzled, as Rachel cautiously moved towards Dumbledore. "I like you a lot, Professor Dumbledore. Thank you for making me feel better. My tummy doesn't hurt anymore." Not being used to such young children (he primarily dealt with teens on the verge of a hormonal breakdown), Dumbledore was surprised when she hopped on his lap and kissed him on the cheek, using her mouse-like hands to straighten his cone shaped hat.  
  
"Girls, I have summoned a Gryffindor to come and fetch you. We have two spare beds in Gryffindor Tower, but also one bed available in Hufflepuff and one in Ravenclaw. I would think though after the very hectic day, you two would rather be near each other during the nighttime, but Leah, perhaps you would like to be in your own familiar Tower. . . ."  
  
"Gryffindor will do just fine, Sir," Leah said. And this was one of the moments where Leah knew what Dumbledore was thinking, because in that second, her mother, all brown eyes and red hair, cautiously walked in the door. 


	4. All the King's Men 1949

It was clear to Leah and Rachel that their mother had been crying when called to fetch these "guests of the Headmaster," but they dare not ask any questions.  
  
"Ms. Weasley, thank you so much for doing your old Headmaster a favor. If you could do me a favor and take my guests to Gryffindor Tower, I would be eternally grateful," Dumbledore requested. Ginny eyed the two girls with some suspicion, and then wiped her red eyes. She knew that they were staring at the dark patches near her eyes. She knew they knew that she had been crying.  
  
"Leah, did you happen to bring your wand with you?" Dumbledore questioned as Rachel climbed off his lap.  
  
"No, I, uhhh, I was not in possession of it when we arrived at Hogwarts," she replied, mentally kicking herself AGAIN for not having her wand near her when Rachel was sick.  
  
"I see, well, you will just have to make do during the duration of your stay. After all, it is not unheard of for a witch to be without a wand for an extended period of time. It will be an adjustment, Leah, but I trust your genes will make you QUITE capable." Dumbledore smiled a grandfatherly smile at her, reminding her of Grandpa Arthur.  
  
"Don't worry, Leah. I do fine without a wand. If I can do it, I'm SURE you can do it. You're a really good witch, according to Daddy and Mummy - just as long as you don't turn Daddy into a ferret," Rachel whispered.  
  
Dumbledore's smile got just a touch bigger. "I think your little sister knows your abilities a little better than I do. Just try to refrain from turning her into a miniature ogre. Ghastly things they are." Leah laughed out loud. So he knew where their father had found them, he probably even knew what their father had been doing at the time! "Well, Ms. Weasley, thank you again. Professor McGonagall shall give you all no problems tomorrow morning as I have notified her of. . . current events."  
  
With parting goodbyes, the trio left in search of Gryffindor Tower, Leah and Rachel following their sixteen-year old mother. Leah could not believe this was happening - just earlier today she had been babysitting her little sister on her break from Hogwarts. And now she was at Hogwarts, 13 years in the past, before her conception, standing behind this girl who did not know she was their mother.  
  
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Ginny started, suddenly remembering her manners. "Is this your first time here?"  
  
"Umm. no," Leah answered honestly. "I have been here before." Ginny shot her a look that asked Why am I playing tour guide if you've been here before? Leah caught herself. "Briefly." In some circles, a year is a brief period of time, Leah reassured herself. "Rachel, though, has never been here. And I'm Leah, in case you didn't catch that in the office."  
  
"I gathered that much." Ginny stared at Leah. "Redhead, huh? It is very rare to see a redheaded student that is not a Weasley."  
  
I am a Weasley! shouted Leah internally, but calmly responded, "Fancy that. We are few and far between."  
  
They approached what Leah recognized as the Gryffindor Tower and the Fat Lady in the pink dress. "Miss Weasley, you have returned quickly. Is everything satisfactory with Professor Dumbledore?"  
  
"Yes, thank you," answered Ginny curtly. "These two girls, Rachel and Leah." She looked at them. "I am sorry, I did not catch your last names-"  
  
"Ma-" Rachel started, but Leah's ever present hand came across to clamp it shut.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore told us it would not be wise for us to advertise our last names. Rachel and Leah will do just fine," Leah finished, releasing Rachel from the bear grip that silenced her.  
  
"Rachel and Leah here will be staying with us for an indefinite period of time, in accordance with the Headmaster's wishes. We are allowed to give them the password," Ginny informed. "Amadora Lecturna!" The painting swung forward, revealing the Common Room. They crawled in, taking in the bright fire and the scarlet interior.  
  
"Welcome to Gryffindor Tower. Your beds are to the left - the girls' tower. We have two free beds in there-" Her eyes brimmed with tears again. The rest of the words came out rushed."We have two free beds in there, which you are absolutely welcome to use for the time being. Two in the girls' tower, two in the boys tower. Make yourselves at home. And seeing as how you do not have any robes, Leah, you can use some of mine, if you want, you know, to fit in. They are bit worn, so I won't take it personally if you want to use someone else's instead. Rachel, I do not know what we are going to do about you." The tears spilled downward. She sat down in the chair situated in front of the large fire. Rachel followed. Draco often said she was sensitive to everyone's pain.  
  
"What's wrong?" asked Rachel. Ginny looked startled. Rachel looked at Leah. "She looks how Dad did when we tricked him with Uncle George's play wand." Her attention returned to Ginny. "What's wrong? Why surprised?"  
  
"It has been a long time since anybody asked me how I was doing." Anyone but Malfoy, Ginny modified internally and shuddered. "Everyone has been preoccupied with their own sense of loss." The little girls exchanged confused glances. "Hogwarts has suffered a great loss recently. Well, not recently, a few months ago. They keep telling me I should be over this. but look at me." She laughed sardonically, wiping the tears away from me. "Still crying.  
  
"During the summer holidays, the Great War heated up to unknown proportions. You-Know-Who gained power that he had never even dreamed of during his heyday in the 70s. The first people to go fight were these two stupid, stupid little boys - two inexperienced wizards too big for their britches - who went to go defend all that was good in the wizarding world. They were brave and so eternally stupid at the same time." And as if talking to herself, she went into a whisper. "I miss them so much, Gods, I miss them.  
  
"We lost ten in that first battle, a few I was close to - this really smart, really sweet girl, Parvati Patil . . . My Prefect brother Percy, too smart for his own good" - she laughed disconnectedly again, reliving old memories -"if you asked me, but oh what a great Minister of Magic he would have made. And my brother Fred, twin of George. Pranksters they were. Share an egg, share a life, my mum often said of them. Then, the little boys, my bumbling, wonderful, prat of a brother Ron and my best friend in the whole wide world, Hermione Granger, intelligent and beautiful and, Gods, everything I ever wanted to be. And the third of their gang, Harry Potter. I'm sure you've heard of him. The Boy Who Lived - he was saved from Voldemort once, but could not withstand him again."  
  
Their mother had never talked about this period in her life, although Leah and Rachel were very aware of SOME loss that their mother had suffered during her sixth year. Their father had been known to curse Harry Potter in his grave whenever their mother was reminded of him. The name of Potter still lived on the lips of the wizarding world, but never in the Malfoy or Weasley households. She wondered how her father could neglect to tell her of this close connection to the great Harry Potter.  
  
"And I'm stuck here. Of all the Weasley kids, I am the only one left in Hogwarts - in the Weasley house. The one that didn't go because her older brothers wouldn't LET her. The Coward That Lived! That's irony for you." 


	5. Gentleman's Agreement 1947

Professor McGonagall had been informed of the girls' expected presence in Gryffindor by Dumbledore weeks before they had ever arrived. She personally thought that bringing the children so far in the past was ill advised: not only could it possibly ravage the girls' sense of continuum, but also their bodies. Besides, they were no safer at Hogwarts thirteen years in the past than they were thirteen years in the future. She had told Dumbledore numerous times that this would be a bad idea - that He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named could find these two innocents across time and space, but Dumbledore had knowledge she would never possess. The least she could do to help her old friend was participate in this asinine idea. And the girls had done nothing wrong. They were as blameless in this situation as she was.  
  
She found the two girls asleep in the dormitory, sleeping at a time when the other children were eating lunch in the Great Hall. Leaping across time apparently took a lot out of you, she reasoned. "Up, you two!" she instructed, pulling up a shade. "The sun has been up for hours." The flame- haired one sat up first, rubbing her very gray eyes. The resemblance to her mother astounded Minerva. The other one, who looked absolutely miniscule compared to her sister, rose a few moments later from the same bed, blinking gray eyes and pushing white blonde strands from her face. A Malfoy if she had ever seen one, McGonagall thought wryly.  
  
"Professor McGonagall, good morning. Rachel, this is Professor McGonagall, she teaches Tranfiguration here at Hogwarts. Go ahead, say hi," said Leah, taking charge of the situation. The blonde one waved shyly. "I am Leah, this is Rachel."  
  
McGonagall took these children in, the offspring of a most unexpected pairing - a Malfoy and a Weasley? How in all things holy did Ms. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy ever put away their hatred long enough to create these two children? "Ms. Weasley is busy in Potions at this moment - I assume she is the only familiar face in Gryffindor at the moment - so we arranged for you two to spend some time with your f- Mr. Malfoy today."  
  
"Thrilling," answered Leah sarcastically, rolling her eyes.  
  
"I can see that you enjoy Mr. Malfoy's company as much as I do, but perhaps you two can make a concerted effort to make the best of a bad situation. Professor Dumbledore has told me that you two are here for your own good. That is about the most I can tell you regarding the situation, so do not bother asking,"- she stared directly at Leah -"Miss Malfoy."  
  
"Daddy is quite mean to us," Rachel stated matter-of-factly.  
  
"He is just trying to adjust to a very difficult situation. No one ever expects to meet their children before they have ever been born, Miss Malfoy, but I have no doubt that he makes a very good father in the future. For now, though, he is a teenager. Foolish, egocentric, and stubborn."  
  
The children nodded their understanding.  
  
"You two are the future of Hogwarts and temporary Gryffindors, please make yourselves shining examples of these. Mr. Malfoy is not particularly excited about spending his free hours escorting his daughters around Hogwarts, and I do NOT need Professor Snape parlaying your father's complaints to me. He can be narrow-minded and any number of less-than- exemplary things, but also remember that he is your father. Attempt to treat him as such, not necessarily as a disciplinarian, but as an equal just as confused as you. There are robes for both of you in that closet on the right. Mr. Malfoy will meet you outside the Common Room in a half hour."  
  
****  
  
Draco was mad. Angry. Annoyed. Tired. Scared. Disgusted. Any number of emotions flowed through him as he stood outside Gryffindor waiting for the two girls. Not just any two girls though, his daughters. A redhead and a blonde. Both with gray eyes and a tendency to curl their lips when satisfied. Both intelligent and dedicated to each other. Smart as whips. And a dashing ability to camouflage their fear. That confrontation in the hallway did not exactly reassure him that his future looked rosy in regards to his family life.  
  
The Fat Lady swung open as his two girls clambered out. (He caught himself referring to the girls as HIS, and this scared him.) "Rat, bigger rat," he greeted Rachel and Leah.  
  
"Ferret," they responded in unison reflexively. There were no smiles on any of these faces. How did they know about that? Draco hoped his adult self would have enough sense not to mention that unfortunate incident to his children.  
  
"Let's just put our cards on the table here, okay, Dad? You do not want to be with us, and we do not want to be here period, so let's begrudgingly get through this time together. Look at it as an opportunity to get a new perspective or however Mom puts it whenever we do something new." Leah was obviously frustrated with the whole situation at this point.  
  
Rachel looked as if she were ready to cry.  
  
"Your mother-" started Draco, trying to piece together words to ask her identity.  
  
"Our mother is a very good person, a great person, in fact, but we do not want to talk about who she is right now," Rachel answered. Draco cocked an eyebrow at her. He had barely heard her speak thus far. The long sentence amazed him. "And she is not the Hufflepuff you made cry last night. You apologized to her yet?"  
  
The Prefect in him rushed to the fore. "Rachel, do not speak of matters that do not concern you," Draco reprimanded.  
  
"Don't tell me what to do, you're not my d-" Rachel spit out, before second- guessing herself. Her eyebrows furrowed at the fact that he was, in fact, her daddy.  
  
Leah cleared her throat. "We can't very well call you Dad or Father when surrounded by other people. I think the fact that we do it makes you uncomfortable anyway. What would you prefer us to call you?"  
  
He examined his options. "There's always King, Prefect, Sir, Lord, Mr. Malfoy." His girls looked at him as if he had just grown another head. "Or you can just stick with Draco."  
  
"I think we can manage it," Rachel volunteered for the pair of them. She grabbed Draco's hand as he led them away from Gryffindor Tower.  
  
*****  
  
As promised, Draco took the girls on a tour of Hogwarts. He learned precious few details about life in his future, but just from conversation, he could tell that he would have his hands full. The older one was twelve, the younger one seven. The redhead had just finished her first year at Hogwarts before arriving here (and he was none too pleased that she had been sorted into Ravenclaw, but swore to be just a little nicer to those sniveling idiots.) They were articulate, self-assured young women who, except for the Malfoy stubbornness and penchant for mischief, seemed to have inherited most of their behavior from their mother, whomever she may be. The younger one consistently held his hand - it seemed she did it without thinking. The older one was extremely sly, constantly dropping hints about the future but never revealing anything rock solid. It ripped him up. Did he have a happy marriage? Did he meet her here at Hogwarts? And if she was here, he should be shagging her right now! I mean, marriage was a shoo-in - these kids were proof of this. They did not have to start this ball-and-chain thing now, but he might as well as get a feel for what sex would be like for the rest of his natural born life.  
  
They sat down in the courtyard outside the castle, the older one firing off question after question, but rarely answering anything herself. "And your father? How is he doing?"  
  
He eyed the older one. She acted as if she had never met him, because once you met Lucius Malfoy, you never forgot him. Either his father and him had a major falling out in the future, or he was dead. "My father is very driven. Works for the Ministry of Magic and is on the Board of Governors here at Hogwarts. He has taught me about what being a Malfoy is all about."  
  
"And what IS being a Malfoy all about?" questioned Leah, turning her head abruptly to make eye contact with Draco. Her hair flipped with the movement, reminding him so much of the forbidden Ginny Weasley.  
  
He ran his hands through his hair. "It is about knowing your status in the wizarding world. It is about having people fear and respect you at the same time. It is about power and wealth and all those other great things. Self- respect, respect in your family, and knowing that despite everything in this world, you will always be better than others here."  
  
Some things never changed, Rachel thought. He sounded just like her father did back in their time; she realized that their father had inherited this for his father. Lucius Malfoy's grandchildren, though, had never met him. "Who are we better than?" Rachel asked.  
  
"Three-fourths of the attendees here, Rachel. Mudbloods, Muggles, mixed heritage, the poor. People like Granger, granted while she was alive, and the Weasleys." Draco caught them exchanging amused glances. "What? What's so funny?"  
  
"Nothing, nothing, Da- Draco," Leah covered. "You just have to remember that things change. And TRUST me, in the future, a whole lot of things change." She changed the subject. "You don't much care for the Weasleys, do you?"  
  
"Not really. I sympathize with their loss - they lost three - well, actually, five, symbolically - of their children during that battle during the summer, the one who worked at the Ministry, one in my year, one of the twins, Potter and Granger. And I guess, in some ways, I miss having those three adversaries around, but they threw themselves into battle. It's their own fault they died. If those kids had stayed here like that girl Weasley, then there wouldn't have been such a loss. Now she is, prematurely, the only Weasley left at Hogwarts, and she is suffering something awful."  
  
Leah's heart fluttered. The loss of her 3 uncles, Potter and Granger had been significant in the life of her mother, but Leah had never known them. Leah was more excited that her father showed concern for Ginny.  
  
"Come on, the Great Hall will be starting first lunch soon," he said, getting up. "I am sure you two are absolutely starving." Leah and Rachel dusted off their robes and followed their father into the Great Hall, about half full of children of all ages, some donning blue, green, scarlet and yellow neckties. She looked over fondly at the table covered by blue - Ravenclaw - her table, her people, her house. Tonight she would be dining green, wearing scarlet, but a member of blue. All Leah needed was to wear yellow socks and she would have all her houses covered.  
  
Rachel and Leah walked some distance behind their father, hearing the consistent call of, "Draco!" "Draco, sit here!" "Malfoy, saved you a spot!" from the Slytherin table. He found space near two bulky looking boys with no necks and mean-looking faces. "Uncle Vince and Uncle Greg," Rachel and Leah said together.  
  
"I have guests tonight," Draco announced to a particularly packed segment of the Slytherin table. His crowd, his schoolfriends, Leah thought. "Pansy, beautiful, would you mind moving a little closer to Millicent, please, so my friends can sit down."  
  
Heads turned towards the girls, walking side by side until they reached a clear segment of bench straight across from their uncles and father. Pansy eyed them suspiciously, announcing, "Draco, you do know they are wearing Gryffindor robes?"  
  
"Yes, I am aware of that fact. My smarts are not isolated to the bedroom, darling," responded Draco, causing Pansy to giggle. Disgusting, thought Leah, he screwed the pinch-faced idiot sitting beside her.  
  
The meal droned on; Draco entertained his group in splendid style, charming as usual and constantly winking at the girls sitting on either side of Leah and Rachel. Quite frankly, neither of them were used to see their father as sociable as he was - it was always work, work, work in their time. Rachel was amused at the fact that Draco had so many stories to tell, but more often absolutely horrified at the jokes he made. It was obvious he forgot that his underage daughters were present at the table. Their uncles, quite playful as adults, occasionally grunted and continually stared at them as if they were pets inappropriately waiting for scraps by the dinner table. The worst part, though, was Pansy and her cohorts sitting on her side, with whom she constantly whispered things while pointing at the sisters. Pansy was apparently too stupid to keep her gossiping subtle. Dumb bitch, thought Leah spitefully.  
  
Leah interrupted her father mid-story with an insistent, "Draco, Rache and I are done eating."  
  
"Hmmm?" he asked absentmindedly, still focused on the conversation.  
  
"We would like to go now, please. Rachel is getting antsy." Pansy had taken her giggling to a new level, and the pointing was getting too much for Leah to handle. "Draco?" No response. "Draco?" No response. Giggling. Story in progress. "DRACO?" Immediate reaction.  
  
"Fine, fine, FINE! Come on, you brats." Huffily, he removed himself from the table.  
  
"Will I see you tonight?" the lovely Miss Parkinson asked Draco quietly, leaning over the table. "Or will you be with the Terrible Twosome?"  
  
"For your lovely body. . ." Draco started, then saw Rachel's lip quiver as she overheard the conversation. Apparently seeing her father with someone other than her mother was too much for the emotional seven year old to handle. They were going to ruin his sex life before they were even born! And he did not even have their mother to shag as a substitute. Damn Dumbledore for doing this to him.  
  
"Not tonight, Pansy."  
  
******  
  
Draco had always had more energy than his young daughters, even as an adult, and today proved to be no exception. He had lost track of time and kept those girls all day, and way past curfew for the second night in a row. They had gone to the water's edge and the stables, to the Slytherin Common Room (much to Pansy's dismay) and to introduce Rachel to her first Quidditch field. By the time he brought them back to Gryffindor, they were ready for bed. Rachel had absolutely no problem yammering away about all the new things they were seeing, although Leah refused to speak to him all together. Apparently, that "brats" comment at the Slytherin table earlier was still eating at her.  
  
They were both walking zombies, heads slumping, eyes almost closed. "Thank you, Daddy, I had fun today," Rachel said before scampering into the Common Room.  
  
"Yes, thank you very much, /Draco/," a half-awake Leah whispered acidly.  
  
Draco, significantly taller than his oldest daughter, bent forward and kissed her cheek. "Neither Rachel nor you are brats," Draco responded dryly before Leah went into the portrait.  
  
The portrait slammed back into place, and for once, the Fat Lady did not ask any questions, especially regarding the way they had addressed him. So, this was father-daughter bonding, he thought derisively, standing there in front of the painting. It was at that moment that someone came forward from the shadows behind him. He drew his wand. "Who is it? Show yourself."  
  
"Put your wand down, Malfoy," a sullen Ginny Weasley whispered. "It's only me, Weasley #7."  
  
"It's past curfew. You shouldn't be out this late at night."  
  
"Look who's talking. How was your day playing chaperone to Leah and Rachel?"  
  
"It was, umm, interesting. They sort of put a cramp in my transcendent style, but other than that, it was okay."  
  
"Why did Dumbledore pick you of all people to show those girls around? You aren't exactly well known for your hospitality."  
  
"They are sort friends of the family." He eyed her. "You aren't known for your saintly qualities either, Weasley. Why did Dumbledore choose you to show them around?  
  
"Two reasons, probably. First, I am Gryffindor, and that's where the open beds were. And second of all, with everything that has been going on - losing my brothers, Harry and Hermione - I think Dumbledore just wanted to know I would have something to do. A diversion to keep my mind off my pain," she reasoned.  
  
"You doing okay?"  
  
"You know, Malfoy, this is the second time you have asked me that. If you're trying to get into my skirts, let me tell you right now that it will never happen - so don't waste your time."  
  
"Weasley, what's under your skirts is about as appealing to me as what is under Longbottom's trousers." He went to sit down on a bench around the corner from the portrait. She joined him. "How are you doing?"  
  
She took a moment to take in the situation. She was sitting in the dark outside Gryffindor on a bench with Draco Malfoy, discussing her feelings. A week ago, the chances of this occurring were up there with Professor Snape mating with a Blast-Ended Skrewt. "Fine - I'm doing fine, but I miss him so much."  
  
"I can see that you do," he said quietly, through clenched teeth. "By him, you mean them, don't you? You lost more than Potter that night, Weasley, or must I remind you?"  
  
Ginny looked at him aghast, amazed that he could speak to easily of the dead - her dead. Her friends, her family, her /everything/. She had said "them," hadn't she? "Don't pretend you give a damn about Harry, Hermione or my brothers, Malfoy. Falsehoods don't suit you, despite the fact that you are Slytherin."  
  
"I can't help but notice that Potter's name was the first one off your tongue. You still harboring that crush on him, even after he's been dead and buried for six months now?"  
  
The tears welled in her eyes. Yes, she missed him - she missed them. Them all. She would not do Malfoy the service of seeing her cry.  
  
He rose off the bench, and softly touched her tightly fisted hands that lay in her lap. "Potter is dead, Weasley. You must face that. That famous Muggle - won a war or something, Winston Chapel or Church-something, once 'If you're going through hell, keep going.' Potter did not put his life on the line for you to sit on this bench, mourning him. He did it so you could live free of the Dark Lord. Do him - and your brothers and Granger - a favor. . . do that which they can do no longer. . .  
  
"Live." 


	6. How Green Was My Valley 1941

"There are Malfoy's tails," a voice whispered behind Rachel and Leah in the library. Rachel shot the brown haired Ravenclaw a dirty look and stuck out her tongue. The boy, aghast, turned around, obviously making a rude comment to his colleague about the girls.  
  
Leah was finding it more and more difficult to be around students that were not Draco Malfoy or Ginny Weasley-Malfoy (or just Weasley - sometimes she forgot.) She tried her best not to be abrasive, but it was difficult. The kids tried not to ask too many questions, but a redheaded girl with a teensy blonde always drew attention. They stared occasionally, and sometimes a brave few tried to befriend them, but usually Leah spent her time sitting in Gryffindor Tower, waiting, or they, as a pair, tried scoping out "the pile of rocks" (her father's words) Hogwarts was built on. Rachel, on the other hand, had taken to young Draco like a pixie to mischief. She counted the minutes until Draco was out of class and ran to Slytherin Tower, and begged (pleaded!) with the portrait to fetch Malfoy for her.  
  
Other nights were spent reading one of the fifteen books Leah had checked out on time travel from the library. It took a great deal of effort to summon a being (let alone two!) from another part of time. Leah did not doubt it took the efforts of not only Dumbledore, but also Professors Snape, Sprout, Flitwick and a few Centaurs, as the right combination of Potions and Charms had to be precise and done in the right phase of the moon.  
  
"Time travel, time travel," Leah muttered to herself looking for a copy of 'Time Travel Secrets Revealed' by Pina del Tiempo. If Dumbledore, whom she had seen twice seen their initial meeting, would not answer her questions about why the girls were here, she decided to take a page out of her mother's book - research, research, research ("I stole the idea from Hermione, but try it sometime. It just may help you raise these grades," her mum would smile upon seeing her marks from Hogwarts.) Her fingers brushed across the last name "del Tiempo" and she knew she had found it. Handing it to Rachel, she went in search of the next book on her list.  
  
Why would Dumbledore need to save them? And save them from what? They were just normal girls growing up in wizarding England. There was nothing special about us, Leah reasoned, except, of course, we are the last Malfoy heirs. Perhaps the most unexpected Malfoy heirs, seeing as how their father was such a playboy. What? Was he banging three girls at one time? Parkinson, the Hufflepuff, and at some point their mother.  
  
'Time Travel Secrets Revealed' revealed no secrets. Slamming the book closed disgustedly, she whispered to Rachel, "This is not working! What can time traveling save us from?"  
  
Rachel looked at her thoughtfully. "Maybe you don't need to look up what time travel does, but who jumped time."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Look up Malfoy. Maybe we were brought here for a reason. Something in our blood, something in Dad's past. We know about the Weasley line, there are no secrets there. Grandpa doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut, but what do we know about Dad's side of the family?"  
  
"Rachie, that's a great idea!" Leah said enthusiastically. "What DO we know about Dad's side of the family?" Grabbing a piece of parchment, she started writing down everything she could remember her father ever said about his side of the family. The two discussed as they wrote:  
  
'Malfoy family. Pureblooded.  
  
Draco, father of Leah and Rachel Malfoy, married to Ginny Weasley-Malfoy, formerly employed at Ministry of Magic before creating Widikul Enterprises.  
  
Lucius Malfoy, father of Draco, husband of Narcissa, son of Lucian and Marilla Malfoy, employed at Ministry of Magic and on Board of Governor's at Hogwarts. Death Eater, follower of Voldemort.  
  
Narcissa Malfoy, mother of Draco, wife of Lucius. Nothing more known.  
  
Grandparents' status in our time unknown. Father does not speak of him. Grandkids have never asked.'  
  
Rachel read that last line over. "Do you think its weird that we never actually bothered to ask Daddy about our granddad?"  
  
"No, I don't. I mean, everything we have ever needed from grandparents we got from Grandpa Arthur and Granny Molly." With that, Leah got up and walked over to Madam Pince, who was busy magicking books back to their places on the shelf. Her wand waving back and forth, a book following its path, Pince was none too pleased to see Leah back to ask her more questions. "Madam Pince, where can I find books on wizarding history?"  
  
"History of what?" she asked frustrated at being interrupted. "Famous wizards, famous witches, important events in wizarding England - or any other European countries for that matter. . ."  
  
"Important wizarding families," Leah decided.  
  
"Back corner nearest the Restricted Section, shelves three, four and five. Which family?"  
  
Leah took a breath. It couldn't hurt to tell her. Pince didn't know she was a Malfoy, after all. "The Malfoys."  
  
"The Malfoys are included in 'Purebloods: We Are Better Than You!' by Pierce Shnozinaire and 'Blonde and Beautiful: A Study of Flaxen Hair in Wizarding England.'" Pince's face softened. "And don't worry, dear, you aren't the first girl to come looking for information on the Malfoys - or one Malfoy in particular. Apparently, a lot of girls feel just as you do. Don't be embarrassed."  
  
Oh, disgusting! I do not fancy Draco Malfoy! Leah wanted to yell, but instead, keeping a tight reign on her emotions, said a polite word of thanks, and headed to the section on wizarding families. She grabbed a few generic books that chronicled a majority of England's most prominent families along with the specific titles that Pince had told her.  
  
Some Slytherin underclassmen were staring at her again. Leah just could not take it anymore. Taking hold of Rachel, they walked out of the library and back to Gryffindor Tower. As was scheduled, the girls met Ginny for the first time in a few days after Advanced Divination with Professor Trelawney. She was with Ravenclaw Sholeh Krishnamurthy, also in that class with her.  
  
"Hey, Leah, Rachel," Ginny greeted, hugging the two girls. "I swear, Trelawney is as crazy as Snape is anal-retentive. Can you believe that Trelawney gave us a quiz - but refused to give us the questions?" Ginny's voice went a high and breathy exaggeration of Trelawney. "'Students, we have been studying the techniques of foretelling the future for almost three years now; I need you to feel my thoughts - and my thoughts shall tell you questions. Just focus on your Inner-Eye.' Inner-Eye, my a. . ."  
  
Sholeh ribbed Ginny. "Icks-snay on the earing-sway." Her eyes swiped towards Rachel and Leah. "Ids-kay."  
  
"So, Leah, Rachel, what do you want to do? The rest of my day belongs to you," Ginny promised, a smile alighting Rachel's face. Leah found it extremely ironic that it took Ginny's two children traveling thirteen years bygone in order to spend time with their mother. In truth, she was a little bitter towards Ginny - in the future, granted. "Sholeh, will you honor us with your presence?"  
  
"Sorry, sisters and Weasley, I have to study for Snape's Hilliard's extract examination tomorrow."  
  
"Come on, Sholeh!" Leah said, grabbing her hand. "Stay!" She steepled her hands in a sign of begging.  
  
"Seriously, Sholeh, who comes to school to study? Stay, please!" Ginny added, imitating Leah in the hand gesture.  
  
Sholeh took a step back. "Leah, are you sure you aren't a Weasley? You two look way too alike to be genetically isolated from each other," she observed before walking away. Leah's eyes darted from side to side as she brought her hands down. I guess I do look like my mother, Leah thought. Weird.  
  
"Let's go to Hagrid's," Rachel volunteered. She had a soft spot for Fang the Boarhound, who, almost as tall as her, proved to be something that could play substitute for the dearly missed Harriette. Rachel, exceptionally familiar with Hogwarts by now, skipped ahead of the pair of redheads.  
  
"McGonagall told me last night that she wanted you to start attending class with the other Gryffindor second years," Ginny revealed. "She said she would come talk to you about it later. Said she had copies of the textbooks since you have no way of getting to Diagon Alley."  
  
"I mean, sure, it gets boring roaming freely about Hogwarts, but what about Rachel? There is no one to watch her," Leah reasoned.  
  
"I don't know. McGonagall was kind of rushed. Something about letting Rachel become Hagrid's assistant. It seems like a good idea to me. She loves that slobbering mutt of his almost as much as she loves him."  
  
"Did you say slobbering mutt? You MUST be talking about me," came a deep voice from the back of them.  
  
"Leah, is it just me or has He-Who-Scores-More-Than-The-Gryffindor- Quidditch-Team arisen from the dark recesses known as Slytherin House?" Ginny quipped almost bitterly, rolling her eyes at Malfoy.  
  
"Cute, Weasel, real cute." Malfoy walked up towards them. "Judging from the amount of orange in this hallway, either Longbottom screwed up and set a carrot charm on your heads. . ."  
  
In unison, the girls shouted, "Shut up, Malfoy!"  
  
At the sound of their voices, Rachel looked behind her, surprised to find Leah and Ginny had stopped following her, when she spotted Draco. Running backwards, she interrupted their conversation by throwing herself around his neck when he bent down to greet her. "Rat, how are you doing?" The name now held a more affectionate quality to it. He ran his fingers through her hair, and like his, it glistened in the sunlight - but unlike his, it moved.  
  
She took his hand and led him down the hall, her mouth going full force the whole time. "Come on, Dad. We're going to go visit Hagrid - and FANG! Have you met Fang? He's this really huge dog, and he slobbers, and he's cuddly. I think you'll like him. And Hagrid? He's tall, like super tall - he's bigger than Uncle Greg! - and he has a long beard. . . ."  
  
Leah and Ginny could hear her voice as it faded with the distance between them. Ginny looked at her. "Did she just call him Dad?"  
  
****  
  
Hagrid was none too pleased to have a Malfoy in his home. This, after all, was the same prig who had tried to get him fired numerous times, and caused him to give up his two most precious possessions, his baby dragon Norbert and beloved hippogriff Buckbeak. "Me wee sprite, why doncha come with me back there'n feed Fang?" he asked Rachel, eyeing Malfoy with contempt, desperate to be out of the royal sneer's presence. "Leah, 'd'you like the come?" Leah nodded, and off they went. Rachel and Leah exchanged a look - their parents would be alone, together.  
  
Not that Draco was having any better of a time in this thing Hagrid called a "house." It smelled like that blasted dog, and Draco was pretty sure that the man had never employed the services of a house elf. And judging from the things passing as biscuits that Hagrid offered earlier, his cooking technique was no better than his cleaning. Draco had half a mind to tell the gamekeeper this, but seeing the smile on Rachel's face gave incentive to keep his mouth shut.  
  
"So, Malfoy, what kind of mood are you in to accompany a Weasley to Hagrid's?" Ginny asked smartly.  
  
"A benevolent mood, much to your benefit," he said, smiling.  
  
Malfoy was almost appealing when he was smiling, Ginny thought. "Gee, thanks for your wonderful gesture. Allow me to retire to Gryffindor Tower and ponder today's good fortune." She sat up. "The little one adores you, you know that, right?"  
  
"She holds me in her favor. The older one though - I'm not so much in her favor as on her 'to kill' list," Malfoy replied honestly.  
  
"No, no, she really does like you. It's just your insistence on being an ass that stops her from acting like it."  
  
Draco made a disapproving sound as Hagrid and his two girls walked in the door. "Malfoy, yer still here." Hagrid's observation was tinged with disappointment.  
  
"Not for much longer, Gamekeeper." He got out of the unusually large chair with some difficulty, but proceeded to the door. "Rat, I have no doubt I will see you sitting outside Slytherin in an hour or so, waiting for me to accompany you to dinner. Leah, you're welcome to join her in her quest for my attention, but if not, good night."  
  
"If you don't mind, Draco. . . I'm heading back to the castle anyway, I wouldn't mind walking with you," Leah informed, almost shyly. She could use the opportunity to quiz her father about his parents.  
  
"Yes, sure, of course," he replied, shocked. His older daughter did not much care for him, this was a given, but then he had not exactly endeared himself to her either.  
  
"Ginny, you'll bring her back to Gryffindor some time before dinner?" Leah asked.  
  
"Definitely. An hour at the max," she replied. "Bye, both of you."  
  
A muffled sound resembling "G'bye" came from the tiny girl whose face was buried in the neck of a large boarhound and the large man who was tending to his cauldron in the fire.  
  
Walking out the door, two sets of gray eyes stared at the other. Leah decided to just jump into the third degree. "Rachel and I have been trying to figure out why we were transported to the past. Dumbledore and McGonagall - the only members of the faculty who know who we are - won't answer any questions about it. Some kind of big secret, our lives might be in peril in our time, we don't know. We think the reason we were transported has something to do with the Malfoy line."  
  
He digested the information. "So, what are you telling me this for?"  
  
"Our father - you in the future, or grown up, whatever - has never talked about your parents. We've never even met our Malfoy grandparents! Never seen pictures - nothing. As a result, we know nothing about the Malfoy family. So who better to question than the biggest, baddest, snottiest Malfoy there is?"  
  
"You know me too well, Leah. Flattery will get you everywhere." Draco pretended to blush. "So what do you want to know?"  
  
"Grandmother Narcissa. Tell me about her."  
  
Draco looked at the dark lake, still for the moment but, like the Malfoy family, had something far more sinister underneath. He did not care for this line of questioning, but took a deep breath. "Your grandmother is. . . a dedicated woman. Dedicated to me, dedicated to my father. She has always wanted the best for me, but always wanted me close to the nest. I am her only child, after all!" He laughed. "My father and I wanted me to attend Durmstrang, another wizarding school, but Mother insisted on keeping me in England, so I was Hogwarts-bound. Let's see, what else? She is the only child of my Echelon grandparents, a prominent wizarding family. She married my father in her twenties, and I guess being a wife and mother fills her days. That's about it."  
  
"What about Grandfather Lucius? You're heir to his vast fortune."  
  
"Oh, yes, the privilege of being the heir to the great Lucius Malfoy. That's me. Luck abounds." His words were splattered with sarcasm.  
  
"You don't think I know how it feels?" Leah asked impetuously. "I am the very female heir of the incomparable Draco Malfoy. Called a great disappointment, my gender that is, according to 'Wizarding Patrician' Magazine."  
  
He looked absolutely startled, but his gaze became more sympathetic. This was another thing he had in common with his eldest daughter. "Successful in the future, am I? Good to know, good to know," he whispered, internally elated that his future held some promise. "Like me though, you will learn to work with your father's legacy, as I intend to do. My father is a terse man, very aware of his role as a Malfoy and a wizard. A great man, mind you, but very aware of his social status. Expects the same thing out of me. I've learned to adapt."  
  
"What about his parents?"  
  
"They were Marilla and Lucian Malfoy. He was their only child. Lucian was quite old when Father was born - he's been dead a few years now. My grandmother died years before Lucian despite the fact that she was years younger. Funny thing about my father was that HIS father was nothing like him. Looks, disposition, everything. On the few times that Father felt we needed to visit the 'old codger' - his words, not mine - I remember him being quite playful."  
  
It was Leah's turn to look shocked.  
  
"Oh, don't look at me like that! Not all Malfoys are like us - acting as though we carry the weight of the world on our shoulders; you unfortunately inherited my enchanting temperament," he said, winking, the sun setting over the lake. "Luck abounds again."  
  
Leah quietly took his hand as they entered the castle. "The more time I spend with you, the more you resemble my dad in the future." She stopped and looked him in the eyes. "I realize that you have no obligation to baby- sit Rachel or answer any of my questions. I really appreciate what you are doing for us . . . Dad."  
  
A/N Just a quick note to anyone and everyone reading this story - all of you who have given me 18 reviews. Thank you so very much! I know a few of you come back and review (ahemIsaandCosmozahem) time and time again, and for your dedication, thank you so very, very much. (And I am very proud of those 18. None of my stories has EVER had anything like that. If I reach 30 by the end of this story, I will be on Cloud 9!) As you can see, any appreciation from anyone regarding these works is music to my ears (and ego!) I love you guys so much! I have about 10 chapters written, but I post a little at a time, so be assured of at least 10 chappys for my little brain bi-product!  
  
Just a note on some names: The name "Sholeh" comes from the Farsi word for flame (she's my favorite character in this story so far, and I planned her kind of spunky - you'll see more of her in later chapters!), while Leah and Rachel are named for a particular story in the Bible where some character (I THINK Jacob, but I'm not sure) wanted to marry a woman (Rachel) but was tricked into marrying her older sister (Leah) instead. In this case, (my) Leah believes she is an unwanted child, where, in the Bible, Leah was the unwanted wife. See how these things come full circle? It's a beautiful thing! 


	7. My Fair Lady 1964

"When Dumbledore had asked for a small amount of the potion involved in time travel, I never imagined that he would be transporting two Gryffindor monsters!" Professor Severus Snape exclaimed. The good Potions Master usually exuded self-control; this was not one of those times.  
  
Draco sat across from Professor Snape in Snape's quarters, located in the dank, dark Dungeons. It had been a few days since his discussion with Leah regarding their mutual ancestry, and he was desperate to confide in someone. "Not just any two Gryffindor brats, though, Professor. He decided to transport my /daughters/."  
  
Snape was well acquainted with Leah Malfoy, despite the fact that he had never heard her full name. She had come into his class almost a month after term had started, much to his chagrin, missing out on all those first-day introductions that made the rest of his students cower in fear. "The crimson-haired child, Leah - that is the only information Dumbledore would tell me about her - she is your daughter?" he questioned, disbelievingly.  
  
"Yes, as is the short blonde one you often see conversing with the portrait outside Slytherin Tower. Her name is Rachel."  
  
"If I did not hear the words coming from you, I would never have believed it. That little rambunctious thing I see following you to dinner, often sitting outside of Potions?"  
  
Draco smiled. "Yes."  
  
"The older Miss Malfoy is actually quite adept with Potions - the first student since the late Miss Granger to actually know that Hillier's extract is used in Potions for dental remedies. It was quite surprising, but now that I know her lineage, it perhaps makes a little more sense. I have caught her, of course, attempting to burrow a hole through my head with intense stares, but other than that, not a sound from her except when she wants me to check the accuracy of her potion. " His thin lips curled into something resembling a smile.  
  
"No kidding?" Draco asked.  
  
"In all seriousness. The child has an extreme distaste for me as a person despite a penchant for the subject."  
  
"Whereas most people have an extreme distaste for both you and the subject?" Draco could not help but pick on his Head of House when the opportunity arose.  
  
"This is true." Snape's look changed into something more thoughtful. "I am wondering, though, why a Malfoy would be sorted into Gryffindor. The child clearly displays many typically Slytherin personality traits, from what I have seen in Potions alone. I have never had to reprimand Miss Malfoy, and this rarely occurs with those Gryffindors."  
  
"She was never sorted into Gryffindor. Professor Dumbledore placed her and the little one in Gryffindor since they had available beds together. You know, Granger and Patil's. In her own time, though, Leah was sorted Ravenclaw. Thoroughly disappointing to a father, but I would rather Ravenclaw than Gryffindor."  
  
"There is still hope though. The little one has not been sorted yet."  
  
"Don't get me started on the little one!" Draco said, absolutely frustrated. "That child will not give me a moment's peace! She is always around, always following me. 'Daddy, let's go here,' and 'Daddy, let's go there.' I see her at the Quidditch pitch, at dinner, in the morning before Astronomy and in the afternoon after Advanced Potions. She will not leave me alone! I do not know what I am going to do. We spend so much time together, and she looks so much like me. . . Someone is bound to figure out that she is my offspring, because, really, she is the spitting image of me."  
  
Snape looked amused. "If I did not know you any better, Mr. Malfoy, I would say that you are a tad pleased with the fact that the child resembles you so strongly, considering the fact that the older one, other than her eyes, bears little in way of your features."  
  
"Well, I suppose I am satisfied. It is nice to know that their mother - whomever she is- may have been able to subdue me into marriage, but did not dominate me in genetics." An almost contended sigh passed through his lips. "That child, though, is constantly with me, always talking - ALWAYS talking. You have no idea. . ."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, you must remember, I am employed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, surrounded by sniveling brats day in and day out. You are experiencing just a touch of the nightmare that I call my life."  
  
******  
  
He watched the three of them as they walked down the hall. Standing shadowed in a corner of the Dungeons, he saw Ginny reach down and tickle Rachel, who held hands with Leah. Leah had a huge smile on her face, a rare occurrence indeed.  
  
His time had been filled playing surrogate daddy to these girls whom he would help create some time in the future. These girls who had his eyes, his attitude and his demeanor. These girls who looked at him as though he could save them from any peril known in this world. These girls with whom he had such a strong connection that it scared him.  
  
Someone had to have given birth to these children. A woman who gave them their infectious laugh, and their strength. A woman who gave the older one her red hair and the younger one a tendency to talk at a breakneck speed. Who on earth could he have conceived these two girls with? Was she from Hogwarts? Perhaps he followed the advice of his mother and married Pansy Parkinson. Maybe their mother was Millicent Bulstrode? Blaise Zabini resembled the Rat in a way, but he was sure she just took after him more than her mother. Maybe he ended up with an underclassman that he did not currently know. Any number of the girls he knew fit the position.  
  
Rachel and Leah, though, were still unwilling to answer any questions about their mother. All he knew for sure was that she was a "good mummy," which Rachel would tell him whenever he asked about their mysterious mother. Their information did not do him a hell of a lot of good.  
  
He followed the trio up the corridor, out of the Dungeons, and into the main chamber of Hogwarts adjacent to the Great Hall. It was dinnertime and the rest of Hogwarts was loud in the Hall, busily consuming their meals. Leah and Rachel broke off from Ginny and went into the Great Hall, but Ginny continued on. Draco figured she was heading to Gryffindor Tower. He followed her through the bare corridors, not quite sure why he had this desperate need to tail her.  
  
"Ginny! Wait up!" he shouted behind her as she approached the Fat Lady's portrait.  
  
Her flaming hair bounced as she turned her head to see the man calling her name. It was dark. "Malfoy?" she questioned, disbelieving. Her eyes darted from side to side, worried, perhaps about someone seeing her with Malfoy, but more likely because she was indeed alone with Malfoy. He stopped right in front of her. "Leah and Rachel are at dinner."  
  
"I know. I saw them walk in. It was you I wanted to talk to."  
  
"About?" she asked quizzically.  
  
His mind raced a mile a minute. He needed an excuse. "The girls."  
  
"What about the girls?"  
  
"How are they doing?"  
  
"Fine. The same as when you saw them this morning."  
  
"Oh. . . I was just wondering."  
  
"Is Rachel still playing your shadow? Between class and such, the only free time I have falls when she is with you," Ginny replied. "She idolizes you."  
  
"I don't know if 'idolizes' is the right word, but, yes, Rachel and I do get along remarkably well."  
  
"Not the only thing you two have in common, is it? She also greatly resembles you. Why is that?"  
  
"Coincidence, maybe?"  
  
"But not so coincidental that not only do you share the same, rare, gray eyes but also the tendency to sneer? What is going on here, Malfoy?"  
  
He sputtered, trying to think of something, anything to say.  
  
"I am not that stupid. Really. You are not the most delightful person I know, and yet Rachel takes to you like a duck to water." Ginny looked at him suspiciously. "You are related to the girls, aren't you?"  
  
A real Slytherin would deny it. A real Slytherin would do whatever it takes to keep his own secret, but he said nothing. There was no denying it now.  
  
"Cousins? Or maybe the most revered Lucius Malfoy had a mistress on the side who bore him two daughters?"  
  
He could easily explain the eerie coincidences by lying, by saying, yes, in fact, those two were his half-siblings whose mother could not care for them at the moment. And he was about to spout that story, when Ginny interrupted him again.  
  
She stepped back and looked him directly in his gray eyes. "On more than one occasion, I have heard Rachel refer to you as her father."  
  
"She could be a confused little girl," he attempted pathetically.  
  
"You can describe Rachel in any number of ways, confused is not one of them. She is one of the most aware seven year olds I have ever met."  
  
Just as his daughters had accomplished on the night of their first meeting, Draco Malfoy was a defeated man. He retreated to that same bench just beyond the Gryffindor portrait where they had had their first dark encounter and stared down at his hands. She sat next to him. "She refers to me as her father because I am her father. Both of the girls' father."  
  
Ginny paused a moment to take this in. "Their father? You're only seventeen! Leah is twelve. It can't be right."  
  
"They have been transported here from some point in the future. I don't really know the logistics of it. Dumbledore won't tell Leah, Rachel or me anything regarding the reason. Leah reads every night because she thinks some book may tell her why they're here instead of at home, in their own time."  
  
"So, they're your daughters?" she repeated. "I must say, you spawn some very friendly children. I would never have thought you capable of that, Malfoy."  
  
"Me neither, but then their mother also played some part in it, I suppose.."  
  
"Who is their mother?"  
  
"No idea. They won't tell me. They'll tease me about it to no end, but refuse to tell me. Malicious pair of monsters, aren't they?"  
  
"No, not malicious. Just incredibly like their father. The Slytherin in them comes out occasionally. If it didn't, I would be worried that your future wife may have been fraternizing with the milkman, if you catch my drift."  
  
"The eyes, the sneer, the Rat's hair. Trust me, they're mine." Malfoy moved closer to Ginny. She slowly became aware of the darkness, of the lack of people here outside Gryffindor. Things happen in the dark, it shields consequences until the morning light. Suddenly, a chill caught her back. This - what Malfoy wanted - could not happen, if that was what he was coming for.  
  
"I. . . ummm, Ginny, I wanted to thank you for helping me out with them. Your involvement with them and everything, watching over them, I appreciate all of it."  
  
"It was my pleasure, they really are sweet children. A little frightened when I first met them, but as we loosened up with each other. . ." but she never had the opportunity to finish the sentence.  
  
His lips settled on hers quickly, like a predator pouncing on its well- stalked prey. It was a quick, fluid motion, but it took Ginny a few seconds to realize what was happening. She fell into him, letting him mold her lips to his, his arm curling around her neck to bring her closer.  
  
Even while it was happening, Ginny was having a difficult time believing that it was. That Draco Malfoy, Slytherin bastard, was currently kissing her. Her mouth was not only part of her being utilized; every part of her was involved in getting closer to Malfoy.  
  
Too close. They were too close. And if she let it continue, this would be doing a disservice to her family. It would ruin all the things her dead brothers had taught her about Slytherins and Malfoys and all those other bad things running free at Hogwarts. Things that Harry had put up with for years. . . This had to stop.  
  
Ginny used every last ounce of strength she had to push Draco backwards, her mind half drowning with need for him, the other swimming in memories of those lessons taught by her brothers - and Harry.  
  
". . .Harry. . ." she whispered, as she felt the cold air on her face, Malfoy's lips pulling away from her own.  
  
" 'Harry'?" Malfoy repeated, getting up from the bench. She opened her eyes to see Draco looking at her, disgusted. " 'Harry?' I kiss you and all you can say is 'Harry?'"  
  
Ginny was speechless. She didn't even know she had said his name.  
  
"Potter. Is. Dead," he said pointedly through clenched teeth. "But then look at me - stupid me. I actually thought you might have gotten over Potter in the last six, seven months, but that will never happen, will it?"  
  
"Draco, wait," she started, pleadingly. "I. . ."  
  
"I will never measure up to Saint Potter, will I? You will always be in love with him, be that foolish young girl with a crush on the savior of the wizarding world, won't you, Ginny? That's fine, Weasley, that's fine. I was the one that initiated this foray into stupidity, but let me tell you something. You can pine over Potter all you want, spend the rest of your life thinking about what might have been, what should have been, but while you're sitting there alone in your self-imposed spinsterhood, know that you passed up the opportunity to be with me - a real, living Malfoy interested in you."  
  
He gave her a moment to take in his words before stalking away towards the Great Hall.  
  
****  
  
"The game hen was really good tonight," Leah said, walking toward Gryffindor. It had been a long day for both sisters - Leah had had a Care of Magical Creatures examination, while Rachel had had to assist Hagrid in wrangling up the monthalensks for the exam itself. Rachel adored spending time with Hagrid (and Fang, of course), and for Leah, Magical Creatures was the one class (other than Potions) that posed no problem for her. It had been long, but fulfilling.  
  
"So far, I haven't figure out much about why we're here, but this is what I know," Leah started. Leah gave Rachel a constant update on where her search was going. Rachel may have been young, and sometimes had difficulty paying attention for long periods of time, but she was also as smart as a whip, often pointing out simple things Leah often missed. "I think the key either lies with Grandfather Lucius' mother, Marilla or Grandmother Narcissa. I know more than enough information about Lucius' father, Lucian, to determine that the Malfoys have not had any trouble for centuries. The Echelons had a lot of enemies - I'm trying to narrow them down. And I do not even have a maiden name for Marilla. I need to talk to Madam Pince about that."  
  
"That book in the library about famous wizards with yellow hair- did you check that out?" Rachel asked.  
  
"Yes, I did."  
  
"Look the Echelons up in that. Grandma Molly has a schoolwide snap from Uncle Bill's first year, and Grandfather Lucius and Grandmother Narcissa are definitely in it. She pointed it out to me - and it looked like Narcissa had yellow hair. Maybe look 'em up in there."  
  
Rounding the corner, Rachel saw the scene before Leah did. Her parents were sitting on a bench in front of Gryffindor Tower, kissing. It jarred her, since her parents were rarely that expressive with each other. Rachel took a breath, she was going to say something, Leah could feel it, but not before Leah pulled her backwards. The older girl took in the scene, saw her parents kissing rather passionately, and it somehow comforted her knowing that at one point there was an attraction. Rachel, of course, reacted the way she had the night they had met their young father, with "blech" being repeated quietly. . . and often.  
  
She wanted to leave her parents in their moment. "Let's go into Gryffindor, Rache. I think they need to be alone."  
  
"Yeah, I'm sleepy. Can you believe it?" the little girl asked. "Mummy and Daddy were KISSING. You know what that means, right?"  
  
"What?" Leah asked, quietly telling the Fat Lady the password.  
  
"You know how it works, right? Mummy and Daddy fall in love, and they kiss, then they get married and have a baby! You're going to be born soon!" Rachel had an excited look on her face, as if the prospect of being around a baby was more than she could take. A new replacement for Harriette!  
  
Rachel hopped into Common Room, allowing Leah a moment alone to focus backwards on her parents, knowing that this moment she was witnessing would lead to changes galore in their lives.  
  
  
  
Author's Note: Despite the fact that I just recently posted a chapter this past Monday, Jan. 21st, I wanted to post this next chapter especially for a dedicated reviewer, Anaxandra, who wanted some D/G action. I hope this is suitable. 


	8. It Happened One Night 1934

Ginny's emotions were fraught when she returned to the girls' dormitory. She had kissed Malfoy. The egotistical fiend who had made a hell of her best friends' lives.  
  
It had been a mistake.  
  
A huge mistake.  
  
And it would not happen again. Under any circumstance. She could not get involved with. . . /that/. A Slytherin. Inconsiderate. Manwhore. One hundred percent, Grade A, bastard.  
  
Well, not a complete bastard. He had become a lot easier to be around since Leah and Rachel were introduced to his life. There seemed to be a sense of duty regarding those children, which would not allow him to be as vindictive as he had been before. They had talked a lot in their time together - with the girls, without the girls - and he seemed to understand her a lot more.  
  
What would her brothers have said if they had been here? she asked herself, sitting in the lounge by the fire in the empty common room. What would they have said had they known she had kissed Malfoy? Her friends?  
  
Ron would have probably attacked Malfoy. Percy, knowing him, would have consulted Mr. Crouch after it became known his little sister had been involved with the "ill-repute." Fred would have just laughed and asked whether Malfoy's hair really was the last known oil slick in Britain. Hermione would have been diplomatic about the whole situation, blaming the kiss on Ginny's very brief bout with dementia.  
  
And Harry. . . Harry would have silently shown his disapproval in a glance that would break her heart. Harry, whom she had adored for the last five years of her life. Harry, whose loss made her heart grieve with every breath. Malfoy had called him the savior of the wizarding world, and in a way, he had saved her too. He had given her purpose, and friendship, and an epicenter from which she could base her whole life.  
  
She felt dirty, she felt dishonest, she felt a whole mess of emotions. She needed to get out of here, out of this part of the castle, out of Gryffindor - too many reminders of Harry and Ron playing chess in front of the fire and of Hermione sitting in this very chair, goading Ginny about whether she had studied. Too many memories of Percy lounging in the corner, composing his newest love letter to the beloved Miss Clearwater - and of the twins, with demonic smiles on their faces, plotting their takeover of Hogwarts.  
  
Grabbing Harry's Invisibility Cloak, she ran out of the Gryffindor Tower, not sure where she was going, but knowing for damn sure that here was not where she belonged at the moment.  
  
*****  
  
Pacing the empty Great Hall - the only place he knew would provide the solitude he needed at the moment - Malfoy scowled as he replayed his moment of idiocy in his mind. He had been the one to make the move, he had fooled himself into thinking that she had felt something too, HE had hit on a Weasley. What on earth was going on? How on Earth had he gone from banging the most beautiful girls at Hogwarts to brooding over why Ginny Weasley (Ginny Weasley!) had rejected him? If everything were normal, his daughters would not be here, now, during his seventh year of Hogwarts. If this had been two months ago, he would have never even given a second thought to a Weasley. If, if, if. . .  
  
And no matter how his deflated ego hurt, (if anyone ever found out about what he had done, he would be the laughingstock of Slytherin House), he could still not block the picture of Ginny sitting in the moonlight. He caught himself thinking like that and wondered whether someone had replaced his mind with Potter's when he was sleeping. Only Potter thought like that, only Potter had everyone's priorities above his own, only Potter. . . Damn Potter and his sensitive soul.  
  
The truth of the matter was if only were he Potter would he then have Weasley.  
  
He walked up and down the corridors, contemplating the situation at hand. Why did he care so much about Weasley? Because, really, she was not relationship material anyway. Not for a Malfoy. (And when did it go from pursuing a bed partner to pursuing a relationship?) She's poor, and stubborn, and inflexible. And not beautiful - not in the typical sense, but there are those moment when she curls her nose. . .  
  
He found himself again going off on a tangent and chastised himself for a lack of self-control. It would have been one night anyway, even if anything had happened between them. One night. What Weasley could give him was not anything he could not run to Slytherin Tower and get from Pansy right now. So why was he so very disappointed?  
  
He heard a sound from behind him in the Great Hall's corridor. 'Weird things happen to me in this place. I have GOT to stop leaving Slytherin in the middle of the night,' he thought deprecatingly, remembering how he had encountered his daughters here two months ago in the Dungeons. Drawing his wand from the fold of his robes, he shouted, "Reveal yourself!"  
  
"We seriously have to stop meeting like this," Ginny whispered, removing the Invisibility Cloak from around her. Inwardly, Ginny was cursing herself for picking the Great Hall, which she figured would be empty, of all places to go to. She did not want to be seen, but had she not made herself known, Malfoy would have done some spell just because he had a /feeling/. Like Mad- Eye Moody, he was just that paranoid.  
  
"Weasley?" he said, looking at her with daggers in his eyes.  
  
"I needed to get out of Gryffindor. I thought I was the only person who knew how to get into the Great Hall after nightfall."  
  
"I use the horizontal entrance from the kitchens. You?"  
  
"Same. Learned it from Fred and George." Putting the Cloak down on a bench, she sat down. "Listen, about what happened earlier. . ."  
  
"I will not apologize about what I said, Weasley," he said gruffly. "If you don't make a change, you will be waiting for Potter forever."  
  
"So what can you offer me?" she asked.  
  
"Offer you?" He looked confused "What do you mean? A marriage proposal before partaking in lunch at Hogsmeade?"  
  
"I do not want to marry you, Malfoy, despite the fact that it may surprise you - but what I'm asking is why getting involved with you is a better alternative than grieving over the boy I have loved for the last five years?"  
  
Pulling a strand of hair out of his face, he stared, aghast. "Are you kidding me? Other than that fact that I am a) breathing and b) interested in you, I can also do wonders for your reputation AND lavish you with gifts."  
  
"But you're not Harry," she said softly, avoiding eye contact, examining her robes as if they were suddenly the most fascinating things in the free world.  
  
"And believe it or not, I thank the gods nightly that I was not born a Potter. I just don't think the title of martyr, or the unkempt hair, would have suited me - just between you and me."  
  
"This isn't a joke!" she rebuked. He sat next to her on the bench.  
  
"I know it's not, Weasley, but this is the way I look at the situation. Your brothers, Granger, Potter are not coming back from the grave for you, and you need to get over it - Potter especially. You've spent far too long languishing over his memory. I think I could suitably assist you in a return to the world of the living."  
  
Ginny contemplated his words for a few moments. "You know you could potentially come out of this as nothing more than a transitional guy. I don't know if your ego could take it."  
  
If she were going to make this drastic change in her life - leave Harry in the past - she needed to take Malfoy up on his offer. Besides, the proposal was not such a bad one. At best, he was offering to be a confidante, not unlike what they were to each other because of the girls. At worst, he was looking for something more than that. And no matter where he stood, she needed to throw herself wholeheartedly into it. Blind faith in a Malfoy was never an easy task, but she needed to try.  
  
"It's a chance I am willing to take. You need time; I'm willing to give it you. All the time you need. Now, I am not saying that you need to forget about your loved ones, but perhaps you need to-" Draco attempted, but stopped when he saw the way she was looking at him. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"  
  
"Let's be done with it then," she said determinedly, getting up.  
  
"What are you talking about? Be done with what?" he asked, thoroughly confused.  
  
"You have pointedly decided that I need to space myself from my grief?"  
  
"Yeah, so what?"  
  
"And you have decided that you will be the one to help me with the task?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So let's just skip the formalities and jump into the obvious first step." Ginny was trembling inside, but the picture that Malfoy had described earlier - of a lonely woman still ruminating over her teenage love with no fulfillment in life - drove her on. He wants this, he wants this, she repeated over and over in her mind.  
  
"And what is, pratel, the obvious firs-" The roles were reversed this time when Ginny kissed him. He stood there for a seconds, letting himself absorb the situation before backing away, holding his hands in front of him, pushing her away. "Wha-what are you doing?"  
  
"This is the first step. A surefire way for me to figure out whether I can get over Harry."  
  
"Surefire way?"  
  
"The step, just in case it has not been made crystal clear, is that we get intimate. Convince yourself that it means nothing, just look at me as one of your hoards of flunkies looking for a piece of Malfoy, if it makes you happy. You, me, doing this-" her hands made a sweeping gesture, as if that conveyed the vitality of these actions- "it will give me some sort of proof of whether there is life after Harry. We /are/ using each other, Malfoy. That's the root of it all, so let's do it to be done with it."  
  
She moved towards him again, making contact with his mouth, and he let himself be swept into it. This was all rather new to Malfoy - he was used to being the aggressor, the pursuer in his conquests. Her hands snaked down his body lightly, slightly afraid of the consequences of these actions. She closed her eyes when she felt him lose the tension in his shoulders. She could feel Harry enveloping her, feel him kissing her, and there was a certain comfort from this.  
  
He began to disrobe her, slowly undoing the clasp in the back of her robes, his lips never leaving hers. "You're sure you want do this?" he asked, a centimeter from her mouth.  
  
"I need to do this," she responded before tugging at his robes. He noticed that her eyes remained closed, a dreamy look on her face as her hands roamed up and down him.  
  
He backed away again. "Open your eyes."  
  
There was a moment of hesitation before she did as requested. She did not need to ask him why. He was not going to let her delude herself into thinking he was Potter.  
  
"I. Am. Not. Potter. Tell me who I am," he instructed.  
  
She looked at him pleadingly. "M. . .Malfoy, you're Draco Malfoy," she whispered.  
  
Pulling her in again, he murmured, "You will keep your eyes open for the remainder of this," before his lips settled on her's again. "This will not be a night of what might be, this is going to be a night of what is." 


	9. Interlude: You're Gone

Interlude: You're Gone, by Diamond Rio

_I said, "Hello I think I'm broken."_

_And though I was only jokin' _

_It took me by surprise when you agreed._

"Go ahead," said a Widikul Enterprises' publicist to a brown haired man in a bowler holding a large piece of parchment with a Quick Quotes Quill. 

"Barniculus Brighton, 'Wizarding Patrician Magazine.' Mr. Malfoy, what is your opinion about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named being the top suspect in the disappearance of your daughters?"

Draco cleared his throat. "It is always smart to examine You-Know-Who when crimes of this capacity occur, but at this moment, we do not want to narrow our options too much. I am leaving the investigation up to the Ministry, and trust they are doing their best to find our girls. While I have no doubt he is capable of it, I can think of no reason why he would choose to abduct two little girls."

_I was tryin to be clever_

_But for the life of me I never_

_Would have guessed how far the simple truth would lead._

 A blue banner with a large "W" in blue, Widikul's logo, hung on a wall behind the subjects of the press conference, shouting, "There's nothing better than Widikul!" every few moments. Draco was too lost in his own thoughts to even care about that at this point, though. His girls were missing. His girls. He was a Niffler when it came to those girls – he could find them, save them, defend those shiny centers of his world against anything, he had always assumed – until now. 

Those girls of his, they were quite a pair. Leah called him on his moments of eccentricity, brought him back down to Earth. Leah was very serious with a tendency to brood, but not without the playfulness that endeared her father to people. Rachel adored him no matter what he did to her, and exemplified the innocence that both Ginny and Draco had both possessed at one time.  His girls were a pair of living, breathing bonds between his distant wife and him - and, gods, he missed them all.

The flash bulbs of the cameras nearly blinded Ginny – they went off so suddenly and often.  She sat there, feeling slightly uncomfortable at being in front of the press – that was her husband's department – awkwardly holding her husband's hand in front of the photographers and journalists. It was unsaid that the front that put up at galas needed to be extended while the wizarding world searched for their girls. 

_You knew all my lines. _

_You knew all my tricks._

_You knew how to heal that pain no medicine can fix._

The publicist directed the ruckus of hand waving journalists by asking, "Grimelda?"

"Grimelda Paraffin of 'Witch Weekly,'" a strawberry blonde woman stated, getting up out of her seat. "Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has refused to talk to the Ministry about the girls much to Minister of Magic Fudge's consternation. Does this make you suspicious?"

"Dumbledore and I have never really seen eye-to-eye on a number of subjects, but I do not believe he would ever do anything to our babies without first consulting us about it," Draco stated dryly. "Mr. Fudge has a top staff working on finding our children. If he cannot get any information from Dumbledore himself, I am sure there are other ways of obtaining said information. Dumbledore is a great wizard, but he is not greater than a whole Ministry."

_And I bless the day I met you._

_And I thank God that he let you_

_Lay beside me for a moment that lives on._

"Next question. Mr. Barrelkeeter?" said the publicist.

"Dionysus Barrelkeeter, 'Daily Prophet.' Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Weasley-Malfoy, your older daughter, Leah, shares a birthday with the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, one of your best friends. In fact, she was born on July 31st of the following year, the first birthday you had to experience without him. Many of the more suspicious wizards say that your daughter was of interest to the Dark Lord because of her birth date – they say a Soul Exchange occurred between your daughter and Mr. Potter – and that your young daughter Rachel was an innocent bystander taken when Leah was the real one he wanted. What are your opinions on that?" 

_And the good news is I'm better for the time we spent together._

_And the bad news is you're gone._

Draco responded, "I think that most of these so-called 'Skeptic Wizards,' are full of conspiracies that do not exist. Unidentified Flying Objects, life on other planets, positive medical effects of Michael Bolton music? Come on! Soul Exchanges never happen. I do not know why I even need to acknowledge the stupidity of that question."

_Looking back it's still surprising_

_I was sinking, you were rising._

_With a look you caught me in mid-air._

 "Last question," said the publicist, pointing to a stout journalist with a handlebar mustache. 

"Lorenzo del Barrio Puerta, 'Bruja.' My question is directed toward Ms. Weasley-Malfoy. What is your opinion of your brother" – he looked down at his notes – "Charles' comments on the fact that he suspects your husband in the disappearance of Leah and Rachel?"

_Now I know God has his reasons._

_But sometimes it's hard to see them._

_When I awake and find that you're not there._

Ginny looked confused for a second. She had heard of no such comments from Charlie. She had not even talked to Charlie since she had married Draco. "My wife and I are not sure to what comments you refer, Mr. del Barrio Puerta," Draco said, shooting a glare at Widikul's publicist for not informing them of this.

"Your brother, Charles Weasley, granted an interview with a Romanian publication in which he stated, and I quote, 'My brother-in-law Draco Malfoy is the worst kind of wizard there is – the product of the worst kind of family. All of wizarding Europe knows his family has dabbled in the Dark Arts. I am sure that he still has allegiances to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, like his father before him, and it would not surprise me if he had those innocent, beautiful children kidnapped and brainwashed to support the Dark Lord too,' end quote."

"Charlie is my brother, I love him, but we have not had contact in thirteen years. He does not know my girls, he does not know husband, he does not know me, and he has absolutely no right to point a finger at my husband," Ginny said coolly.

_You found hope in hopeless._

_You made crazy sane._

_You became the missing link that helped me break my chains._

Mr. del Barrio Puerta twirled his mustache with the quill he was holding. "Ms. Weasley-Malfoy, do you believe that your husband had anything to do with the disappearance of your daughters?"  

_And I bless the day I met you._

_And I thank God that he let you_

_Lay beside me for a moment that lives on._

Ginny hesitated for a moment. Draco's grip on her hand loosened. She looked at him with his blonde hair and slack mouth. 

The man who would be Potter's replacement. 

The man who would never replace Potter. 

"No, I do not think my husband had anything to do with Leah and Rachel's disappearance. He loves them far too much to harm them." 

 The publicist called an end to the press conference with a, "Thank you for your questions, we really appreciate your coverage of this matter. And despite all the controversies swirling around, please remember the core issue – getting these two little girls home. There are posters located on the table in the right corner with all of Leah and Rachel's vital stats." She held up a large poster of two girls, both smiling, one fair, the other not so fair, flashing gray eyes that seemed to embody all the potential the world held. They both waved shyly to the camera.

_And the good news is I'm better for the time we spent together._

Joined briefly for that moment in front of the cameras, Draco had not felt as close to Ginny since the night that they had created Leah. Each of them held a mutual grief, a mutual fear, about their daughters.

He wanted to comfort her, he wanted to take her into his arms and hold her. Gods, he missed his girls and his wife, but for that moment, they had been in tune, connected. 

Ginny let go of Draco's hand as the last journalist filed out.

And in that moment she up and left him, abandoned him once again in solitude.

Despite the fact that she was still sitting beside him.

_And the bad news is you're gone._


	10. Going My Way 1944

Breakfast today was especially difficult. Ginny tried to stop herself from staring at Malfoy, who was sitting with the rest of his Slytherin cohorts. He was very involved in his conversation, laughing occasionally, but made eye contact with her and then quickly glanced over to the Hufflepuff table, where he had had sex with her. Gods, it seemed like an eternity ago, when in fact a small amount of time had passed. Ginny reddened up immediately and focused her eyes back on her eggs. Normally a very big fan of the food, she could barely stomach looking at it without having the urge to throw up.  
  
Seated at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, Ginny was surrounded by Sholeh, Rachel, and Leah, each of the three comparing their plans for the day. The nausea receded rather quickly, and she tuned into their conversation.  
  
"I have Divination first today," Sholeh said, disheartened. "Someone throw me off the Astronomy Tower, please. Now."  
  
"Come on, Sholeh, it's not that bad," Leah encouraged, digging her fork into something that resembled bacon but tasted like Bertie Bott's grass flavored bean. "I would rather be making up versions of my own death with Trelawney than bonding with Professor Snape in Potions, a pleasure I am lucky to possess."  
  
"You have a point there, my young friend!" Sholeh said, pointing her fork at Leah with her mouth full.  
  
"Hagrid and I are gonna give Fang a bath today," Rachel chirped in, excited. Her clothes, as Hagrid had requested, were the rattiest, smallest things Ginny could find in her closet.  
  
Sholeh reached over and gave the excited Rachel a quick squeeze around the shoulders. "Sounds like fun, me wee sprite," she said, imitating Hagrid, thick accent and all. Her attention turned to her carrot-topped friend staring off into space. "So what's going on with you today after we have Trelawney together?"  
  
Ginny's eyes wandered back to him. Sholeh waved her hand in front of her. "Hello? Ginny? Come on, attention focused on the beautiful girl sitting in front of you, please? Namely, me."  
  
"Sholeh? Oh, sorry, I didn't realize. . ." Ginny attempted a pathetic recovery. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"  
  
"What are your plans after Divination?" Leah filled in as Sholeh had put a forkful of grass bacon into her mouth.  
  
"Oh, nothing. I thought I would go see Rachel with Hagrid today, maybe watch Quidditch practice." She, again, attempted nonchalance.  
  
"Quidditch practice?" Sholeh asked. "But it's not Gryffindor practicing today, is it? I mean, it's really not worth it if that incredibly sexy piece of. . ." Sholeh realized Rachel was listening to the conversation. "What I meant to say is, it's not worth it if Longbottom isn't playing."  
  
Leah and Ginny laughed quite loudly as Sholeh went crimson. They both knew about Sholeh's crush on Neville, which neither one of them could understand. At all. In the least.  
  
Sholeh's head shot up straight, eyeing Ginny. "Wait, isn't it Slytherin's day for the Quidditch pitch?"  
  
Ginny though was eyeing Draco, whose hand was very protectively placed on top of Pansy's beside his plate of scrambled eggs. There will be no jealousy, Ginny instructed herself. He did not chain himself to you when he had sex with you. . . three times. And it doesn't matter anyway, it was just sex. Just the one physical act and you've betrayed Harry. Don't think about it. Just sit here and eat your grass bacon.  
  
"Yeah, it is. I thought I might get a heads up on this year's competition for the Cup. Seeing as how Colin Creevey can't scout practice today, I thought I might do him a favor and watch them." Sholeh's gaze never let up. It slowly went from intense to plain suspicious. "Hey! Don't look at me like that - Creevey asked me, I didn't offer, I swear. Like I want to watch a bunch of sweaty green beans yell at each other all afternoon?" Ginny defended.  
  
Sholeh finished her plate at the same time as Rachel. "I have to run to the library before Divination," Sholeh told Ginny as she got up from the table.  
  
Rachel rose too. "I think I'm gonna go to Hagrid's early too. Help him set up for today's Magical Creatures class."  
  
"Goodbye, you two," Ginny and Leah said together, and then laughed. Sholeh walked towards the exit, muttering something to herself about Leah being too Weasley not to be.  
  
Ginny took a deep breath. "He told me, you know."  
  
"He who? Told you what?"  
  
"Malfoy. He told me you're his daughters. I mean, he didn't really tell me, I already had most of it figured out."  
  
Leah paused a moment, unsure of how to handle this. This went against what Dumbledore had told her, but if Ginny already knew. . . but she DIDN'T know everything because Draco didn't know everything. Ginny being her mother still was not out in the open. "I see."  
  
"I just want you to know that I am willing to research as much as possible to figure out why you're here. Even Malfoy-" she pitched a sidelong glance at the Slytherin table - "said he's willing to help, but he's pretty busy."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"It's Rachel's birthday next week," Leah informed. "I thought I should do something special since we. umm. can't go home. You want to help?"  
  
"Sure. Definitely," said Ginny. "She's turning. . . eight?" Leah nodded. "When's your birthday? You might be with us for awhile, it might be a nice thing to know."  
  
"July 31st. I'll be 13. Not for another 8 or 9 months, but I guess you're right - it is a nice thing to know."  
  
"Harry's birthday?" she asked softly.  
  
"Huh? Harry who?" It clicked in Leah's mind. "Potter? Harry Potter's birthday is July 31st? I didn't know that. That's wicked cool."  
  
She stared at Draco as he tickled Parkinson. Oh, Merlin's beard, Parkinson must elicit that nauseous feeling in me, she thought, her stomach cramping quite suddenly. She needed to get to a restroom.  
  
"I have to head to Divination," Ginny said abruptly, getting up from the table and running towards the exit of the Great Hall.  
  
Leah was confused about Ginny's abrupt exit before her father came and took her place at the Gryffindor table. "What was that about?" he asked, staring at Ginny's red hair bouncing behind her as she stalked out.  
  
"I have no idea, but knowing her as I do, I have no doubt that it has something to do with you," Leah said before walking out towards the Dungeons.  
  
*****  
  
"So, no new information, girls, about why you're here?" Draco asked Leah and Rachel as he walked them back to Gryffindor Tower later that day.  
  
"Nothing at all. Ginny's been working around the clock, I have interviewed every Master and Mistress here about time travel, and none of them can tell me anything remotely useful. This Malfoy ancestry idea isn't even panning out, and I know all about the other side of the family - I know about every member of that side of the family, and trust me when I say that there are a lot sibling groupings on that side. Apparently my grandfather had something like six other brothers and sisters or something. Lots of people. Dumbledore will see us anytime we need to talk to him, but he won't answer any questions. McGonagall's a force unto herself, never even acknowledging us. I don't even know what to do anymore. We need to get back home. I'm sure my mom and dad are missing us."  
  
"I'm sure they are too," he reassured as he saw Ginny coming out of the portrait, a handful of books towering over her head and obstructing her view.  
  
"Hey, Gin!" Rachel called, running over to her, but careful not to touch her too much for fear of the books toppling over.  
  
"Hey, girls," Ginny answered. "I need to go return these books and get an essay started."  
  
"Ginny," Draco greeted, smiling slyly.  
  
"Malfoy," Ginny acknowledged before skittering towards the library.  
  
Rachel's bottom lip trembled. She always took everything rather personally. "She doesn't even hang out with us anymore."  
  
"Sure, she does. Yesterday we spent the whole morning in the library!" Leah reminded gently.  
  
"With me and you, sure, she spends lots of time, but not with all of us. Not with Daddy anymore. What's going on?" She looked straight at her father, hands squarely on her hips. "What did you do to her?"  
  
"Nothing, absolutely nothing," he said, unconvincingly. "Okay, girls, have a good rest of the day. See you tomorrow. I have Quidditch practice then some major studying."  
  
There was an unexpected consequence of their night in the Great Hall, Draco mused as he walked towards Slytherin to get his Quidditch supplies. He realized that Ginny had started avoiding him at every opportunity, and he could not figure out why. He tried being friendly, he tried chatting her up about the girls, he tried talking to her about Divination, Potions, anything - nothing worked. She refused to see the girls if he was with them. Usually, at this point in the day, they would have seen each other a couple of times, exchanged a few caged barbs, then went on their merry way with the girls. And Rachel and Leah, not particularly stupid themselves, asked questions. It wasn't like he could say, "Oh, yes, my little angel daughters, did I forget to tell you that I screwed your best friend here at Hogwarts?"  
  
He had never bedded a virgin before (or would the correct phrase be "tabled"?), and quite frankly, he was feeling a huge amount of guilt regarding the consummation of their relationship. He had taken her virginity on a tabletop for goodness sakes, justified pathetically by saying that he was helping her get over Potter.  
  
Yeah, sex with Ginny helped her overcome Potter like a tequila shot helped a drunk overcome alcoholism.  
  
Although, he reasoned, Ginny was a whole lot more satisfying than liquor.  
  
****  
  
He watched them in stands, the two of them side by side, whispering to each other about God knows whatever teenaged girls whisper about. They smiled, pointed at him, pointed at some other players on the team, and then whispered again. These two cherry headed ladies: one of whom he would sire and the other with whom he shared a tryst. Two very different associations for girls who looked so very alike.  
  
"Malfoy? Malfoy?" a voice called to him. He had been staring at Ginny and Leah in the stands, watching the Quidditch practice, and hoped to the gods that neither of them had noticed. The one thing he did NOT need at this moment was Muggle-born Slytherin captain Jackholm Rorvenor on his ass. "Dammit, Malfoy! What is wrong with you?"  
  
He gazed at Jackholm, flying his way with a bolt of speed and energy, and plastered on his best look of indifference. "Yes, Rorvenor?"  
  
"Welcome to Earth, Malfoy. You are currently practicing a game called Quidditch. QUID-DITCH. A necessary part of us practicing is you paying attention to the GAME BEFORE YOU!" he screamed, his rather large cheeks becoming enflamed in frustration. "The Snitch passed by you three times, Malfoy. Three times, but did you see it? No! Because you were too busy paying to paying attention to Carrottop and her Clone."  
  
Malfoy raised his eyebrow and released a sigh. The gesture screamed, "I see you in front of me, I acknowledge you blowing your top, but I do not give a flobberworm's tail about it." Internally, he was cursing himself. If Rorvenor, daft prick that he is, noticed he was staring, then Ginny and Leah had definitely noticed.  
  
"Are you done now, Jackholm?" Malfoy asked contemptuously.  
  
Jackholm lowered his voice, and pointing, said, "Hit the showers. I don't need my Seeker preoccupied by some Quidditch groupie. Leave the field, get some ass from that Gryffindor slut Weasley, and return next week, focused."  
  
Malfoy reacted immediately to that comment, socking Rorvenor in his stomach. The team moved in quickly, and through the corner of his eye, he saw Leah and Ginny stand up, trying to see what was happening. Despite the fact that they were still air bound, he pulled Rorvenor close to him by the collar and muttered quietly, "She is not a slut, and you do not tell me what to do, even if you are Slytherin's captain, you undeserving Mudblood."  
  
He released Jackholm and flew back to the ground, the rest of the team gathering around Rorvenor, questioning whether he was okay. Rorvenor looked at Draco bitterly, reassuring his teammates that he was just fine. Intent on heading towards the showers, he saw Leah coming down the stands towards him. Ginny followed her at some distance, with no intention of coming any closer to him, holding back in what seemed like fear.  
  
"What happened there?" Leah asked, once they were a good distance away from the continuing Quidditch practice.  
  
"Nothing. I wasn't focused on practice today, Jackholm Rorvenor saw this and told me to just head to the showers."  
  
"And for this, you hit him? For goodness sakes, Dad, I better not ask you to pass the salt or anything. You might send me into the middle of next week!" Leah laughed. "There was more, though. What did he say?"  
  
"Leah, what Rorvenor said is none of your business. Now, if you'll excuse me," he said abruptly, pushing past his redheaded daughter with a stricken look on her face. He must have said something incredibly serious. She kept up with him, though, unfazed for but that moment.  
  
"Okay, okay, so don't tell me. You don't have Quidditch practice, why don't you come to dinner with me, Ginny and Rachel in an hour or so?"  
  
"I don't think so," he said, pausing for a moment, looking back. He cracked a smile. "You will not graced with my presence tonight."  
  
Leah snapped her fingers. "Well, darn it all, I thought I would head up to Gryffindor Tower and pine away from you, awaiting the moment when I could see your slicked blonde hair and pretty face again," she said sarcastically, a mysterious smile on her face.  
  
He remembered back to that day in Hagrid's cabin. Ginny had made a comment just like that - about returning to Gryffindor and waiting for him, the same smile on her face, the same hand gesture.  
  
Rorvenor had called Leah Ginny's clone.  
  
Ginny's friend Sholeh kept questioning Leah about whether she was a Weasley.  
  
Leah and Ginny were both redhaired.  
  
Ginny furrowed her brow whenever she was perplexed, not unlike the Rat.  
  
It dawned on him in that moment. . .  
  
Ginny Weasley was the mother of his daughters.  
  
Oh, gods.  
  
A/N So how's it coming along? Be honest, critique, tell me what you'd like to see!  
  
I have been receiving some harsh, rather unfair criticism regarding this fic. If that certain person is reading, I would like to tell him/her that it's fine if you attack my writing, my plot, my writing style, but you crossed the line. You attacked me personally, and that is entirely unfair. Please, do me a favor, don't read my stories anymore if you hate everything about my fanfics so much.  
  
I'm not a very big fan of yours, either, and though I haven't reviewed any of your fics yet, let me just say that I know the difference between flames and constructive criticism. Apparently, you don't. 


	11. Rain Man 1988

"Dad? What's wrong?" Leah asked, looking around excitedly, as if, in any moment, she were going to run and fetch help. "You just kind of. . . stopped. What's going on?"  
  
"Y. . .y. . .your mo-" he stammered.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your mother. . ." he finally got out.  
  
Leah's hands went to her hips. "How many times do we have to tell you we aren't going to talk about her? You'll meet her when you meet her, and have two wonderful children. That's all you need to know."  
  
"Your mother is Weasley?" he asked quietly.  
  
Leah's jaw fell. That was all he needed. She could not deny it now even if she wanted to.  
  
"Your mother is Weasley?" he asked a little louder.  
  
Leah nodded silently.  
  
Another thought entered his mind immediately, and she knew what he was going to ask before he did. "How far back in time did you come? I mean, are you born twenty, twenty-five years in the future?" His voice was almost hopeful.  
  
Leah mumbled her answer, looking down. She had been hoping against hope that this conversation would not occur while she was in this part of time. Her father was so plainly happy - his only worries at this point were winning the Quidditch Cup and not killing Rachel whenever he was around her. Knowing THIS information would affect everything. Impending fatherhood and marriage at seventeen would throw a weight on any boy's shoulders.  
  
"What?" he said, not hearing her.  
  
Her face shot up, her eyes locked with his. "Thirteen, Dad. Rachel and I are from thirteen years in the future. I'm twelve now. Do the math. You will have me and a wife about the same time you graduate."  
  
His face went pale. The only thought running through his mind was that he needed to sit down. Leah saw his whiteness, and immediately clutched his arm, becoming a support, despite the fact that she was heads shorter than him. "Okay, Dad, put down your broom and just sit down. This is a lot to take in. I'm sorry for being so blunt."  
  
"No, no, Leah, I asked, didn't I?" he comforted, plopping down on the grass on the outskirts of the main pitch.  
  
The information ran around in his head. He looked up at her pleadingly, still obviously ingesting the information. "I would never have paired us up, but I mean, we apparently create some beautiful children, so it can't be all bad," he said to himself. Leah blushed.  
  
"Come on, Dad, let's get you back to the locker room. Get you out of the nasty uniform," she instructed, pulling him up and leading him back to the castle.  
  
Another thought hit him at that moment, one that he did not share with his young daughter guiding him.  
  
She would be born not long after his graduation from Hogwarts. June or July.  
  
He laughed sardonically, remembering his ponderings of unexpected consequences due to his and Ginny's night together. Remembering how he'd laughed about it earlier in the day.  
  
Here was one of those consequences right in front of him, bossing him into the castle. The same one whose sixteen-year-old mother might be carrying her, and probably did not realize she was doing so.  
  
*****  
  
Ginny was sitting in her dormitory alone, catching up on Advanced Arithmancy homework when the one person who she did not want to see came barging in, still attired in his muddy green Quidditch uniform, broom clutched at his side. Leah followed, looking ashamed for some reason. Malfoy looked even more ashen than he usually did, but with a glint of determination in his eyes. His squared shoulders intimidated her, but she did not let him see it when she stood up.  
  
"Did you let him in here?" Ginny asked Leah, cowering behind her father.  
  
"Yeah, I did. He said he really needed to talk to you," Leah explained.  
  
"Well, tell HIM-" Ginny looked straight at him, pointing at his chest-"that I do not want to talk to him or see him."  
  
"I don't think I've gone deaf in the last few weeks, Ginny, thank you, but even if I had, you wouldn't have known it, would you?" He turned around and looked at his daughter. "Leah, we need a few moments alone."  
  
Leah flashed an apologetic look at Ginny before making herself scarce, running out of the sixth year dormitory.  
  
She turned around, her back facing him, looking out the window onto the castle's bright exterior. "What do you want, Malfoy?"  
  
"We need to talk." He sat on her bed.  
  
"Hey there! Don't get too comfortable in here. You're leaving in a few seconds anyway."  
  
"This is serious. I found out some things today. . . that are going to change things around here."  
  
"When did I become your sounding board again, Malfoy? We haven't talked in weeks!" she exclaimed, frustrated.  
  
"Not for my lack of trying, Weasley," he stated quietly. She reluctantly nodded her head. "I found out some things from Leah today." He gestured toward the space next to him. "I think you need to sit down."  
  
"What? What's wrong? Something about the girls?" she asked worriedly, sitting down.  
  
"The girls are fine. Nothing about their situation has changed. Something about ours has, though."  
  
She made a flagging motion between both of them, saying, "WE have no situation, Malfoy. There is no WE, now please tell me what the problem is."  
  
He decided to approach the topic from a different perspective. "Did your mother ever teach you about the Contraceptus Potion?"  
  
"What?" She looked aghast. He walked in here like the end of the world would occur tomorrow, and now he was asking about birth control?  
  
"Did she teach you about it? Do you ever use it?"  
  
"Believe it or not, Malfoy, I did not enter Hogwarts this year thinking I was going to sleep with you, or anyone else for that matter - so, yeah, she told me about it, but I never used it."  
  
There was a sharp intake of breath from him. So she is pregnant, he thought to himself.  
  
"Leah told me who her and Rachel's mother is." He paused.  
  
"And who is she, Malfoy?"  
  
"You."  
  
There was a moment of silence. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open. "Me. . . you. . . created. . . them?" she sputtered. There was a moment of silence. "What? Are you joking?"  
  
"No. Now take a moment. Absorb the information," he instructed. "I have another piece of information for you also."  
  
"There's more?" she asked incredulously, still obviously processing the shock. "I find out that I am going to mother YOUR spawn sometime in the future and there's more?!"  
  
"Have you been feeling nauseous lately?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Sort of, but I didn't give myself the Pepperup Potion early enough this winter. . . What does it matter anyway?"  
  
She searched his eyes until his implied intent settled in.  
  
"I'm pregnant, aren't I?" she gasped, tears entering her eyes.  
  
He nodded sullenly.  
  
She pointed to the door. "With Leah. I'm pregnant with Leah. Oh, gods on Mount Olympus, I'm sixteen and pregnant with Leah."  
  
*******  
  
(A/N: This segment comes off as exceptionally pro-life and, when I re-read it, rather preachy. This is not my intention. I am, and will forever be, staunchly pro-choice, but if Ginny decided to abort her pregnancy, my whole plot would be lost. On that same token, though, I could not ignore the option of termination altogether, as it is, often, a viable choice for an unplanned pregnancy, even in the wizarding world.  
  
And please, please, please do not flame me with anti-choice sentiments. My story happens to coincide with a very hot-button issue. I know the arguments of the pro-life movement, respect those arguments, and believe everyone is entitled to their own opinion. Please do not let yours take away from your experience with this particular piece of fanfiction.)  
  
There was no need to rush into things, Malfoy reassured Ginny a week later, after she had had enough time to accept the information, and for Madam Pomfrey to perform a pregnancy verification charm on her to confirm her impending child. He just wanted to make sure she kept all her options open.  
  
"Don't look so distraught, dear," the MediWitch comforted. "This actually occurs quite often in the wizarding world. It's nothing the right combination of charms and a potion can't take care of."  
  
Pomfrey stared at Malfoy, who stood in the back of the room, his arms crossed, looking rather concerned. "Are you the father, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked.  
  
He nodded.  
  
"I see." She looked back and forth at both of them. "Remember, Miss Weasley, Mr. Malfoy, that what happens in this room, whatever information you reveal in this room, stays in this room. Be reassured of that. Please do not hesitate to ask me any questions you may, if you do in fact, carry the child to term." Sensing the need for these two teenagers to be alone, she added, "I need to go restock some supplies in the back room. Miss Weasley, my door is always open." She left.  
  
Ginny, lying on the bed, looked at Malfoy. "I am not terminating."  
  
A relieved look crossed his face. "I didn't think you would, but it's good to know."  
  
She started crying. "I can't do it. It would be so easy, Draco, I swear, it would make my life all sorts of easier if I just bucked up the courage and terminated, but look what I would be doing to the future. I've met Leah, I LOVE Leah, and it wouldn't be just some fetus I'd be disposing of, it would be Leah. I would be depriving the world of her, and she has so much to offer."  
  
He walked over to the bed. "So what do we do now?"  
  
"I know what we don't do. . . We DON'T get married. Agreed?"  
  
He sighed. He was seventeen. Marriage was not exactly in the cards right now, but then of course, neither was a kid. Life plans changed, and he had to learn to deal. According to Leah, Ginny and him were married in the future, but he reasoned that he had enough control to make slight changes. The two of them could mutually agree to conceive Rachel when the time was right. She would be a welcome addition to anybody's family. "Agreed, for the time being anyway."  
  
"I mean, we can't get married," she whispered, looking at him. "I don't love you."  
  
"Fair enough," he responded, his ego taking a fair blow. He did not love Weasley either, but he was disappointed to find out that night in the Great Hall had not helped her pry herself away from Potter. Not even a little bit. She was obviously immune to his alluring charm, and this bothered him.  
  
"I guess the best thing for me to do right now is to go home to the Burrow. Break the news to my parents." She laughed nervously. "Oh my God, my parents. How am I going to tell them this? 'Yup, Mum, Dad, I'm going to bear the next generation of Malfoys.'"  
  
"It'll be fine, Ginny," he soothed softly.  
  
"So what weekend is good for you?"  
  
"What?" he queried.  
  
"What weekend is good for you to come with me to the Burrow? You ARE going to be there when I tell my parents," Ginny instructed. She grabbed a piece of parchment from Pomfrey's side table. "You probably don't want to miss any of upcoming Hogsmeade weekends - I don't either, I think I may have to bulk up on chocolate from Honeydukes, you know, expected cravings and such, so that eliminates the first weekend next month and. . ."  
  
"Wait, hold on," Draco started, backing from the bed. "You want me to go to the Burrow with you? Where your father will have easier access to my skull?"  
  
She smiled. "And there won't be any witnesses. AND Charlie will be home. I can't wait."  
  
*******  
  
Rachel was off with Hagrid when Leah encountered her parents coming out of the Hospital Wing. Leah, not a particularly imbecilic child, with some knowledge of both math and reproduction, knew why they were in that part of the school. She encountered them in the hallway outside of Madam Pomfrey's chambers.  
  
They were deep in conversation with serious looks plastered on their faces when she greeted them. Both of her parents had spaced themselves from Rachel and her. Leah hadn't even TALKED to Ginny alone in almost a week. Perhaps intentional, perhaps not, Leah wasn't sure, but it was going to end now. "Hi."  
  
Ginny and Draco looked at each other. "Hi there, Lee," Ginny said, coming over and hugging her.  
  
"Long time no see," she said casually, flashing a seething look at her father. Leah had not been in this part of time so long that she could not remember her regular life when she often did not associate with her mother; it was not associating with her father that got to her.  
  
"Where've you been?" he asked casually.  
  
"Going through some of Professor McGonagall's books in her chambers."  
  
"Learn anything new? About anything?"  
  
"No information on the Malfoy line, no info on my Weasley line, absolutely nothing. I don't know, except I overheard Professor Dumbledore saying something to Professor McGonagall outside her quarters about defeating the Dark Lord. . . a year's gestation. . . Potter's child. I don't even know if it had anything to do with me, I bet it doesn't. He was probably just discussing Mr. Potter again. I guess Hogwarts' hasn't been the same since. . . ." She looked at the pair of them, anxiously, changing the subject. "Is everything progressing okay, with the baby. . . with me?" she asked her mother quietly.  
  
"So you know that you have already been conceived," Draco acknowledged.  
  
"I saw you guys kissing outside Gryffindor a month or so ago. The next part of that was bound to happen sooner or later, and since I know my own birth date, all I needed was a calendar to get a ballpark date."  
  
She had been avoiding Leah and Rachel, and avoiding the pregnancy all together. She had hoped not acknowledging it would make it go away. It hadn't worked, but as she stared down at Leah, there was this sharp sense of pride at the fact that all the trouble she would soon encounter with her parents would be worth it. This ordeal - two pregnancies, she reminded herself - would produce strong, sensible daughters. "You're too smart for your own good, you know that?" Ginny grinned down at her daughter. "So I'm your mother. That's something you neglected to tell me."  
  
"I couldn't!" Leah defended, smiling. "Dumbledore told me I could not. It was up to you two to put two and two together."  
  
"You had no problem telling me, though," Draco commented dryly.  
  
"Yeah, well, you were no cuddly ferret that night when we met you, and I felt the news would either kill you or shock you into silence. Luckily, it was the latter." She placed her hand on Ginny's abdomen, fully aware she couldn't feel anything this early, but took comfort in the fact that she was in there. "Kinda creepy, isn't it? I mean, at least it is for me, knowing that I'm standing here AND in there." They both nodded. "So how far along am I?"  
  
"About a month, Leah," Draco informed.  
  
"I'm right on schedule then, as usual," she laughed. "Look for my premiere to be. . ."  
  
"July 31st," Ginny finished quietly.  
  
Draco eyed Leah, unsure why Ginny said the date with such reverence. Catching it, she told, "I share a birthday with the great Harry Potter, go figure."  
  
"Oh," he responded, boiling inside that he had to share another thing with the damned faultless Potter. Control yourself, Malfoy told himself. Potter's dead, Ginny's bearing your child, he's dead. Leah is not Potter's, she's your's. The prick is dead.  
  
"We're going to the Burrow this weekend," Ginny said. "Break the news about you to your grandparents."  
  
Leah's jaw dropped as if someone had placed an Engorgement Charm on it. "Dad, you're going to the Burrow?"  
  
"Yes," he said hesitantly.  
  
"You DO know that Grandpa Arthur lives there?"  
  
"I am aware of this fact."  
  
"And, oh, Merlin's toes, he's twelve years younger than when I know him - and he's no slouch in my time, mind you. That means he's stronger, faster, AND has more hair."  
  
Draco nodded.  
  
"And you're STILL going?"  
  
He nodded again. "And you and Rachel are going with us." 


	12. The Lost Weekend 1945

"The best Butterbeer I've ever tasted!" Rachel exclaimed to Madam Rosmerta upon tasting it, as the four of them sat at the Three Broomsticks.  
  
Dumbledore, in his never ending wisdom, had Madam Rosmerta's Three Broomsticks temporarily connected to the Floo Network and gave this rather skewed version of Weasley/Malfoy family permission to go to the Burrow straight from Hogsmeade. He knew of the child's arrival even before Ginny and Draco had gone to discuss it with him; he basically nodded his head the whole time, and, if Ginny so wanted to exercise the option, would allow Ginny the opportunity to owl her homework back and forth to Hogwarts in the later trimesters of her pregnancy.  
  
Draco sat silently in the back corner of the table, absent-mindedly tapping his fingers on the table, a sure sign he was nervous, Leah was able to distinguish. "Nervous much?" she asked, cocking a smile.  
  
"Just a little," he answered, his face more pale than his white blonde hair.  
  
Rachel pulled at Leah's hand, getting antsy once again, her mug of Butterbeer absolutely empty. " 'K, let's go exploring then. Come on, Leah."  
  
"Have fun, you two," Ginny said, as Leah and Rachel went to go look around Hogsmeade. Their father had given them far too much money upon their arrival here at Hogsmeade, and she had told him as much. "Draco didn't give you guys that money to spend solely at Zonko's, Rachel."  
  
"G-aw-sh, Mum," Rachel said, reverting to the familiarity of mother and child, "I promise I won't spend too much of Daddy's money at Zonko's, but if he didn't want me to spend it, why'd he give me so much?" She flashed a mischievous look at Ginny. "And besides, there's still Honeydukes." Before Ginny could respond, she dragged Leah out of the Three Broomsticks.  
  
"Rebellious thing, isn't she?" Draco questioned, watching Leah and Rachel walk down the street through the window. "I think the Rat'll cause us more trouble than Leah."  
  
"No one who looks that angelic can actually BE that angelic," Ginny agreed, taking a sip of her Butterbeer, "but she does take after you physically, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised she's so shirty with me."  
  
"It's a good thing, though, her nerviness," he concurred. "She knows you know you're their mother, so she doesn't have to be that cautious 'bout calling you 'Mum' and such. At least, that's what Leah told me. It's easier for her to be around you because she's not worried anymore."  
  
"I guess so." The events of last week had really shocked Ginny, but among the other surprises swirling around her as of late - the pregnancy, the truth about the girls - she was most surprised at the fact that suddenly Malfoy had become her only confidante in this rather confusing situation. She took in his anxiousness. "I don't think my parents should be as intimidating as Leah made them out to be," she comforted.  
  
"Intimidating?" he asked wearily. "I can work with intimidation - I did grow up with Lucius Malfoy as a father. It's a loss of limbs or-" he looked down- ". . . other appendages, that causes me the greatest worry."  
  
The girls walked back into the Three Broomsticks with a small bag of gifts for themselves. Rachel had purchased a few chocolates, while Leah had bought a Blood Pop.  
  
"So, I guess we should go," Draco told quietly. To Ginny, he asked, "You have the Floo Powder?"  
  
Reaching in her knapsack, she pulled out a small silk bag of a grainy substance as they made their way to one of the Three Broomsticks' backrooms with a fireplace. "Girls, you first," Ginny instructed, putting a little bit in each of the girls' hands.  
  
They stepped into the fireplace and said, "The Burrow!" before vanishing in a fit of flames.  
  
Ginny went next, giving him the bag before taking some for her. Looking at him as she stood in the fireplace, she asked, "You DO have your wand, don't you? You know, just in case?" a second before releasing the powder and shouting, "The Burrow!"  
  
Draco stood there for a seconds, still debating whether to enter the Floo Network himself.  
  
There could be pain on the other side.  
  
A whole lot of pain.  
  
Malfoys were not cowards, he reminded himself before stepping into the fireplace, and nervously, dropping the powder and yelling, "The Burrow!"  
  
*****  
  
Charlie Weasley sat in a corner of the living room, glaring at Malfoy, watching, waiting, counting the seconds until he could take the boy outside and give him a very painful tutorial in keeping his trousers up and buttoned.  
  
Molly stood beside her husband, holding his elbow, tears escaping her eyes, but all the while focused on the task at hand - NOT allowing her husband to kill the blonde boy who stood behind her very determined daughter.  
  
Ginny stared at her father, who had been yelling at her and Draco for last 45 minutes, and did not flinch as his voice got louder and louder as the minutes passed.  
  
Draco had never situated himself in one place for long, listening to someone call him every name in the book for so long WITHOUT responding. As he attempted to drown out Arthur Weasley's voice, he had to compliment himself on his superb self-control. It was not so much Arthur's yelling that fazed him - he had expected as much when they told him Ginny was pregnant - it was the cat-like stare Ginny's older brother Charlie gave him, as if he were wishing with every fiber of his being for him to drop dead.  
  
Leah and Rachel, who had been introduced as friends of Ginny's before being rushed outside, had been told to go and play with the chickens. It wasn't the most interesting thing going on at the Burrow, but at least they weren't witness to this. At least, that's what Ginny reasoned when she had told them to leave before breaking the news.  
  
The sisters stood there, yards away from the house itself, right outside the chicken coop, and they could still hear their grandfather yelling. No words were exchanged between them as both strained their ears to hear even more.  
  
"My only daughter, my only daughter! How could you do this? How could you let him do this to you?" a voice boomed.  
  
"Arthur, please! She's only a girl, and in a delicate condition. . ." Molly responded.  
  
"Molly, he's a Malfoy! A Malfoy! She's sixteen! What are we going to do about this? Dammit, Malfoy, I'll kill you. Even if I have to go to Azkaban, I'll kill you for doing this. . . ." the same voice yelled.  
  
A calmer voice entered the conversation - Ginny's. "We never planned on this, Daddy, but we are going to have this child."  
  
"You are, are you?" Arthur questioned mockingly. "You're sixteen years old, Eugenie Molly Weasley. How on earth are you ever going to raise a child? You're not even done with your schooling yet!"  
  
A new voice entered the conversation. It was tentative, slow, as if choosing the best words. "Professor Dumbledore gave her permission to finish her studies at home through owls."  
  
There was silence for a second, as if someone were thinking something over. In all probability, it was Grandpa Arthur.  
  
The boy - Draco, of course - was ignored. "And you conceived a child with Malfoy? Lucius Malfoy's son? Ginny, good gods, Ginny!"  
  
Rachel and Leah could see in through the Burrow's front window - Grandma Molly was whispering something into Grandpa Arthur's ear. He seemed to lose the tension in his shoulders, slumping, before retiring to a chair by the fireplace. Rachel saw her parents exchanged a relieved look - somehow, they knew that the screaming was over, and that was perhaps the worst part. Rachel could clearly see that Ginny had lost her previous control, and was now crying into Rachel's father's shoulder. A look of surprise crossed Draco's face momentarily before he made eye contact with Molly, rubbing the back of Ginny's head soothingly.  
  
Charlie got up from the corner he had previously been inhabiting, and Draco had the opportunity to realize that this dragon-wrangler was a whole lot taller than he was. If anyone could hurt him, it would be. . . this. The large redhead whispered seethingly, so quiet that the girls had to walk forward a few feet to hear him, "You couldn't have just whored yourself out to the Dark Lord - you pick one of his minions instead? For shame."  
  
Rachel saw the look of pure horror on Ginny's face as she raised her head from Draco's shoulder.  
  
"I can't be here right now, in this house, knowing that SHE'S going to be bearing the demon spawn of THAT," he spat, nodding at Malfoy who was still fiercely clutching Ginny. "I'm sorry, Mum, Dad, but I can't be here right now. Owl me when You-Know-Who's whipping boy has vacated these premises." With that, he Apparated out of the Burrow.  
  
Leah stood on tiptoe from the far corner of the chicken coop to see towards the fireplace. Grandpa Arthur glared straight at Malfoy, and finally addressed him. "Malfoy, when will you two be getting married?" he questioned, thoroughly overwhelmed.  
  
Ginny wiped her tears away, and resumed her defensive stance. Her chin held high, she stated, "There will not be a wedding."  
  
Molly rushed to her husband's side as his cheeks reddened up again, fury blossoming on his face. "Arthur, Arthur, now listen to me. . ." she attempted.  
  
Grandpa Arthur walked straight to Malfoy and Ginny, and bent down so that he was inches from her face. He used to same tone of voice Charlie had, but calmer and without the vindictiveness. "You will marry this boy, Ginny, or you will no longer associate with this family. Do you understand me? I am prepared to cut you off from this family without a cent. You will not attend Christmas here, I will not pay for your seventh year of Hogwarts. I WILL leave you destitute with an illegitimate child, if you do not marry this boy. Your mother, Fred, Bill, and, for damn sure, Charlie and I, will not hesitate to deny your existence if you shame this family."  
  
Draco released Ginny, his usually rather pale face cherry red. He could not stand here while the people who claimed to love her so much emotionally massacred the mother of his child. "Ginny has decided to give birth to a child. A new life! We're young, granted, but we are going to have this baby, and I will do right by them, even if she does not share my name," he exclaimed, defiantly.  
  
He glowered at Malfoy as he moved toward him. "Malfoy, the Weasleys may not have much in the wizarding world - we may not have your wealth, we may not have the fear your family name entails- but we have ALWAYS had our dignity. If you even ATTEMPT to debauch the Weasley name by not marrying Ginny, I am not above going to Azkaban to retain my family's honor. I will do whatever it takes. Look into these eyes, you filthy little rich boy, and let me say it again, I am not above doing whatever it takes to retain my family's honor. You WILL marry my daughter before she bears your bastard." He shoved a finger at his chest. "You, of all the people in this world, will NOT deprive my family of its integrity."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N Yes, before you flame the living daylights out of me, Arthur Weasley is a touch OOC in this chapter. I realize this. Thank you for pointing this out - but let me give you a peek into my (rarely) rational thinking -I believe Arthur, a man living on a meager salary, subconsciously compensates for this by treasuring something even MORE important - yup - that's right, his integrity and if anything (including his teenage daughter bearing a child out of wedlock) puts that in jeopardy, he's going act. Fast.  
  
And again, a quick thanks to all of you who check back day after day to check for updates and leave such wonderful reviews. I appreciate your honesty. I appreciate you even more for reading!  
  
And this will end this week's tour of SnapeJuice's brain. Thank you for your time, and as usual, donations are always appreciated. 


	13. The Greatest Show on Earth 1952

Malfoy Manor had always given Draco the chills. It was his boyhood home, the place where he could run and hide from the problems that existed outside the gray gates that enclosed the mansion. It held all the protection he could have ever needed, but it was also very isolated, very dark, very cold.  
  
And right now, the problem that existed did not live outside the mansion, HE lived inside the mansion.  
  
Draco walked the long corridor to this father's study, occasionally passing house elves, who would bow silently as he passed, a gesture of welcome. The long carpeted floor was intimidating, with reds and greens everywhere. Candles lit the hallway, a sign of serenity to normal wizards. His father kept them there just so he would have easy access to fire in case someone attacked him in a wandless moment. Like his son, he was confident, but paranoid.  
  
As he approached the large oak door, he for the first time noticed the intricate designs on it: a forest with some people, but by the bottom of the door, two of those people had been noosed, hung from the tree. How appropriate, he thought wryly. He knocked softly, hoping his father was either too busy or in no mood to talk to him. They had pre-arranged this meeting, but maybe there was an emergency at the Ministry, maybe pigs had started flying without magical assistance. After all, miracles do happen.  
  
"Enter, Son," came a baleful voice from within.  
  
"Father," he greeted, as he nervously sat himself in the chair across from his father. Large, maroon and leather, it stuck to his perspiration-soaked neck as he rested backwards.  
  
"That swine Dumbledore owled me and said you would be coming home for a weekend. And while I not unhappy that you are home, one cannot help but ask why?"  
  
Draco cleared his throat. "Mother? Is she here? I'd like her to sit in on this conversation also."  
  
He shuffled some papers that sat on his desk. "No, your mother has gone to London, to purchase some new draperies. Your travels here were a little last minute, your mother had already made plans."  
  
"I see," he acknowledged, internally petrified that his mother, the one person he knew would defend him to the death, soften the blow, was not present at the Manor - but it was either now or never. He needed to tell his father.  
  
"The Dark Lord has been wanting to speak to you," Lucius told his son quietly. "You are a few months from eighteen. Your initiation is right around the corner."  
  
"A few months yet, Father," he reminded gently. "As the time approaches, we will discuss it more."  
  
"He is impatient. There are few of us left. The more fresh flesh in the group, the better off we will be."  
  
"Yes, Father," he acknowledged, sick to his stomach that his father still wanted him to align with the Dark Lord. And while he had little, if any, problem with his father being apart of what was little more than a group of playground bullies, he knew aligning with the Dark Side could potentially cause a strain between him and new fiancée. He really didn't want to risk it. He had no problem cursing Potter, hoping that the twit was turning in his grave when HE was with Ginny that night in the Great Hall, but he just did not have the evil in him to be EVIL. Murder was just not his style. Perhaps he was underestimating the power of the Dark Lord, but he had grown up with He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named as a constant fixture in his life. This made him almost immune to the daily taunts his father spewed day in and day out, messages straight from You-Know-Who himself.  
  
"Son?" Lucius prompted. "What is this news you have for me?"  
  
Just do it, Draco urged himself. Just break the news. Fast and quick. Like taking off one of those despicable Muggle contraptions - Band-Aids: the slower you are, the more pain you cause. And if you break the news quickly, you might shock the poor bastard into a heart attack or something. Miracles do happen. . .  
  
"I. . ." he started. "I have some news for you - and Mother. All rather good. . .shocking, but good."  
  
Lucius gawped at his son. "Yes, get on with it then. What is this good, shocking news?"  
  
He fiddled with his hands, looking at them intently, before bringing his head up. Just do it. Just do it. "Congratulations, Grandpa!"  
  
Lucius fell backwards in his chair. Speechless for a moment, all he could manage to get out was, "Huh?"  
  
"You are going to be a grandfather," he reiterated, a smile plastered on his face, as if he were breaking the best news in the world to his father.  
  
His father took a moment before booming, "Damn naïve Dumbledore! He thinks all his students are all bloody saints, doesn't he? Doesn't believe in teaching the Contraceptus Potion. I swear I'll take this up with the Board of Governor's. I'll get that ancient beast fired, if it's the last thing I do. . ."  
  
"Father," he whispered, "it's not Dumbledore's fault. It's mine."  
  
"You're a strapping young boy, Draco. Rich, quite a catch. I can't believe you'd be so stupid to forget something so important. The girl, it must be the girl. You'll be inheriting more wealth than most wizards will ever see! She trapped you, didn't she?" He stood up, his hands hitting the table. "I bet she expects a portion of it, in exchange for termination, doesn't she?"  
  
"There will be no termination of the pregnancy, Father. She will carry it to term. And it is not her fault that WE ended up in this situation, it's both of our faults, I suppose, mine more than hers, but. . ."  
  
"Who is it? Is it that Pansy girl who sniffs around like a dog in heat whenever your mother and I are at Quidditch matches?"  
  
"Pansy? No, never," he said, thanking the gods that, in all the times that they had slept together, Pansy had remembered her Contraceptus Potion. He shivered at the thought - they would have made some rather pasty children.  
  
"Well, then? Who is it then?"  
  
"Weasley," he muttered, almost silently.  
  
"Who? Repeat that?"  
  
"Weasley, Ginny Weasley. Arthur Weasley's youngest. He works at the Ministry too," Draco answered, a little louder.  
  
"Arthur Weasley's daughter? Draco, to what levels have you sunk? A Weasley. That poor, worthless excuse of a wizarding family? Good gods!" he yelled. The tirade continued for a few minutes about the repugnance of the Weasley clan - not unlike the one that Arthur Weasley had offered him at his modest home, against the Malfoy family, of course. "I can't believe that. You copulated with a Weasley? What, were no house elves or hippogriffs available? A Weasley?" A flabbergasted look sat on his face. "How far along is the wench?"  
  
"A month or so," he said.  
  
Lucius calmed down, the flush that had inhabited his neck slowly creeping downward. His face returned to its normal pale. "And she refuses to terminate?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Well, then, these seem to be our only options here, Draco," he started calmly, pulling out a sheet of parchment. "One, we can - tragically - cause an unexpected loss of pregnancy with a potion you can slip into her food. Two, we can kill the girl ourselves. Take your pick."  
  
Draco rose from the chair, his jaw flailing. "Neither. I refuse to let you do that to the mother of my child."  
  
"My, my, rather defensive of the harlot, aren't you?" Lucius asked spitefully. "Are you sure the child is yours?"  
  
"Yes," he answered confidently.  
  
"Fine then," he responded nonplussed, "If the strumpet is to bear your child, then you will not allow it to be a bastard." He pressed his robes down, the small wrinkles disappearing. "I will not allow it to be a bastard - I do have a reputation to maintain."  
  
"So, what are you saying?" Draco questioned.  
  
"Really quite simple, boy. I am saying, either you marry the girl before she starts to show, and keep her and your offshoot away from me, or I will kill her. There are certain things that are expected from us Malfoys, families of our status in this community. Bastards are not one of them." Utilizing his wand, he opened the door for Draco. "That will be all."  
  
"But, Father," he started pleadingly, "she refuses to marry me. . ."  
  
He brought his hand up to his chin, stroking it. "Well, that's quite a conundrum, isn't it, Draco? This is the way I see the situation: either you convince her to marry you, or she dies. Put it to her like that. Its really not a difficult decision." He looked at his papers again. "If you'll excuse me. . ."  
  
Draco knew there was more to be said, but his father was too wrapped in whatever task he was completing for the Dark Lord today. There would be no use pleading with him now.  
  
He got up and walked toward the fireplace.  
  
*****  
  
There was nothing that could be done about the situation at hand, Ginny thought frightfully as she sat in the Slytherin Common Room with Draco. The Slytherins all looked questioningly at their ringleader when he walked in sporting a redheaded Gryffindor.  
  
Pansy was so annoyed that she departed huffily to her dormitory, despite being involved with a chess game.  
  
Draco sat across from her, as they occupied a quiet corner. Surprisingly, the Slytherin Common Room was much more quiet than Gryffindor. Evil is silent, she reminded herself thoughtfully.  
  
"So we marry?" he questioned her almost desperately, taking grasp of her hand.  
  
Ginny reflexively pulled her hand backwards. "I don't want to. I swear. I won't make a very good wife."  
  
"Your parents, you heard what they said. And my father. . ." He shivered as he thought about how the confrontation with his father had commenced. "You don't understand, Ginny, we need to get married," he whispered earnestly. He hadn't told her of his father's proposal. The less stress on her mind, the better it was for Leah - the baby - whatever.  
  
"Why, Malfoy? Why do we need to get married so badly?" she asked suspiciously. "You don't love me. I don't love you. There is nothing between us except one night and two children brought back from the future. A child is no reason to chain yourself to someone."  
  
He stared at her pensively. "I say a kid is as good a reason as any," he said, rather unconvincingly.  
  
"I don't love you!" she hissed at him. "I will not marry you."  
  
"Damn it all, Ginny," he said through clenched teeth, getting off his chair and kneeling at the base of her chair. "You do not understand. . . We need to get married. For the child. I don't love you, it's true, and you don't love me, but trust me when I say that I would make a good husband. You'll have access to my inheritance and offer the best possible life for Leah and Rachel in the long run. Trust me when I say you won't get far with your father supporting you. He has enough of a time budgeting for you and your brothers, and while I suppose he's doing a good job, it's not good enough for YOU to add another mouth to an already strapped family."  
  
She rested back in the chair and closed her eyes, placing her hands on her growing abdomen, thinking. He could tell what was playing in her mind before she'd even opened her eyes and spoken. Potter. Always Potter. She was trying to fathom a life married to a Malfoy instead of a Potter. Trying to rectify a life planned as a spinster after Potter's death with one as a rich man's wife. Truth be told, those two lives contrasted drastically.  
  
For Leah, for Rachel, for her family, for his family, reputations needed to be salvaged. Mistakes needed to be erased. Marriages needed to occur. Her shoulders slumped as she came to the realization that the only way to have any kind of contact with her family was to marry Malfoy.  
  
She rolled that around in her head. Marry Malfoy. She'd be Ginny Malfoy. Eugenie Molly Weasley-Malfoy. Ginny Weasley-Malfoy.  
  
Oh Blast-Ended Skrewts, she would be a Malfoy.  
  
She opened her eyes, looking at the boy who sat at her feet: blonde, pale, not totally unattractive, but pathetic. So pathetic. Allowing himself to be bullied into marriage. No backbone to say no. There was no other word for her husband-to-be but pathetic.  
  
Then of course, she was as pathetic as he, because she was about to give this marriage proposal her consent. "Fine," she sighed, defeated. "I'll marry you."  
  
Her fiancé looked relieved, but less than thrilled at the prospect of his impending wedding. "So, what, ummm, do we do now? How does one go about planning a wedding?"  
  
She looked at him, aghast. "You think pregnancy immediately endows me with Martha Stewart-like qualities or something?" (At his confused expression, she remembered to whom she was talking: the king of the Muggle-frees.) "She's a Muggle queen of the homemakers, Malfoy." She got out of the chair, the stares of his fellow Slytherins finally getting to her. "I know as much about wedding planning as you do about celibacy. And trust me, that's not saying much."  
  
Marriage to Ginny Weasley was going to one tumultuous ride, flinching internally at the thought as he escorted her out of the Common Room.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N A few people commented after the previous chapter that Ginny was short for Virginia. NOWHERE in canon, according to a message board @ Fiction Alley specifically discussing Ginny's given name, does it state that Virginia is her actual first name:  
  
http://www.fictionalley.org/fictionalleypark/forums/showthread.php?s=&thread id=24772  
  
Also, the completely thorough Harry Potter Lexicon would have mentioned whether Ginny's full name was Virginia in canon. It states no such thing. Go see for yourself:  
  
http://www.i2k.com/~svderark/lexicon/ginny.html  
  
I don't particularly care for that name either, so I gave her something different.  
  
Call me a blaspheme of all that is sacred in HP fanfic, call me creative, just don't call me late to dinner. 


	14. Cavalcade 1932 and 1933

Leah and Rachel happily rambled through the Hogwarts halls, towards the Faculty end, where Dumbledore's office was located. They had some things to discuss, apparently. Leah had been summoned from Snape's Dungeons, Rachel from Hagrid's.  
  
"They're getting married," Rachel said in awe, as they held hands, walking up the candle-lit corridors of the school. "They're having a baby! This is SO awesome." Rachel paused for a moment, looking up at Leah. "You think they might be happy this time?"  
  
"What do you mean, Rachie?" Leah asked distractedly.  
  
"They fight all the time, in our time, I mean," she admitted quietly, stumbling on her words. "Maybe this time, you know, 'cause they're getting married again, sort of, maybe they'll be happy this time."  
  
"That's a really nice thought," Leah said, not quite believing it herself. "I think we might have helped them learn more about each other. I think they may be happier this time around." I hope, she amended inwardly.  
  
Dumbledore was waiting for them in front of the passageway to his office. "Girls, I am so glad you could join me! Come," he said, turning around, allowing for a stairwell to appear at the base of a large bird sculpture. They entered his office, familiar to them after the few meetings they had shared with him, talking, as he helped the two girls adjust.  
  
"So, Professor Dumbledore," Leah asked, as Rachel and she made themselves comfortable on a pair of chairs, "the point of this meeting would be?"  
  
"To share some exciting news," he answered, smiling. "You two get to go home!" The good Professor had expected this to garner some reaction from the young Miss Malfoys, so the fact that they just sat there threw him for a moment. "Well?"  
  
Leah and Rachel exchanged glances. Rachel cleared her throat. "We really do want to go home, Professor Dumbledore. . ." Rachel started.  
  
"But, see, our parents. . . they're going to get married soon," Leah finished.  
  
"I know!" Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. "I wished your parents, young Mr. Malfoy and Miss Weasley the best just this morning when they told me the news."  
  
"We were sort of hoping that we might be able to stick around long enough to see it- the wedding, we mean," Rachel said.  
  
Dumbledore laughed that infectious Grandpa Arthur-like laugh Leah missed from her own time. "If that's what you are worried about, Miss Malfoy, and Miss Malfoy," he said, looking at each of them when addressing the girls, "we can arrange for you to stay just long enough to see the ceremony."  
  
"What changed, Professor? Why are we allowed to go home now?" Leah asked quietly.  
  
"Miss Malfoy, while it would absolutely useless divulging the details at such a late date, let me simply say that any threats that may or may not have been lodged against you two do not seem to exist anymore. If anything were to be done to you two in your time, they would have acted already. In my opinion, it is now safe for you two to go home to your parents."  
  
Rachel's eyed moved quickly between her sister and the old professor. Whatever they were discussing, she would make a point of talking to her sister about it later. All that mattered was that they were going home! To Pooches! To Harriette!  
  
"Well, then, you two may continue with your day - Rachel, I am sure Hagrid is missing you, and Leah, I am absolutely confident that Professor Snape is missing you," Dumbledore commented snarkily, his eyes twinkling. "Please be prepared to travel directly after the ceremony, although I cannot pinpoint the exact moment when you shall leave. The sooner we get you back to your time, the better."  
  
*****  
  
Hogsmeade City Center Gardens. It had been a simple affair in Hogsmeade's Town Hall, and then perhaps lounging in the Gardens for a time. Until the girls disappeared back to their own time. Only two other people were present at the wedding ceremony other than him and his bride. Their children.  
  
How completely modern.  
  
As he stepped out of the building, attired in top-of-the-line dress robes, he walked side-by-side with his wife. His wife. Looking perhaps more beautiful than he had ever seen her before. Glowing with her, while unexpected, but never unwanted, pregnancy.  
  
Their children led the way out of the Town Hall. Dumbledore had told them what to expect - Leah and Rachel would be going back to their own time. Perhaps in moments. Perhaps tomorrow. In truth, he would miss those two: Carrottop and the Rat. Quite a combination, those two, he chuckled inwardly. They ran all over the Gardens, despite being dressed to the nines thanks to a very excited Headmaster. New shoes, their hair done up beautifully.  
  
Smiling, always smiling - the pair of them - whenever they were together.  
  
And his wife, his bride, she was doing something she rarely did in HIS presence- she was smiling, looking quite a bit like her older daughter.  
  
As he observed the serenity of the gardens, he had to grin. There was so much potential in the world. It amazed him how so many things once considered questionable could turn out so well.  
  
You want proof?  
  
There were two laughing girls playing in a garden.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N Heads up, dear readers, the conclusion to this story, entitled "Blessed," will be making its premiere within the next couple of days. Stay tuned! 


	15. Conclusion: Blessed

Conclusion: Blessed, by Elton John, lyrics by Bernie Taupin

Dumbledore stood in front of Malfoy Manor, a cold, ragged, defeated man. His age showed through his sallow face, a look of pure solemnity taking the place of a twinkle. As the billowing winds tossed his robes to and fro, he was, for one of only a few moments in his life, unsure of what to do, of what to say. Tears ran down his face, housing themselves in the eerily pronounced wrinkles that dared to show themselves on this day, settling on his snowy beard. 

Slowly walking up the stoop, he took a moment, a few breaths, before tentatively knocking on the large door. A house-elf answered the door, and recognizing the tall man in front of him, extended an invitation inside by opening the door all the way before traipsing backwards to fetch the master and mistress of the home. 

Ginny ran down the remainder of the stairs when she recognized her old Headmaster in her foyer. He had previously refused to talk to her about the location of her daughters, perhaps there was something to say. Perhaps they had been found. Perhaps her babies were coming home.

Draco came out of his office upon the house elf's request, still shuffling through some papers. He stopped dead when he saw Dumbledore. The one man who would not talk to him about his daughters. The one man who never seemed worried about the fact that his daughters, his lights of this life, were missing.

**Hey you, you're a child in my head**

**You haven't walked yet**

  
"I did what I thought was best," he explained pathetically, his arms dropping like the tears that fell off the tip of his nose.

"What did you do?" Ginny asked nervously.

"Where are the girls?" Draco pounced. "Dumbledore, do you know where the girls are?"

"I needed to save them. They were in _danger, _in our time, in this time. Something needed to be done. The Ministry refused. . ." he attempted.

**Your first words have yet to be said**

**But I swear, you'll be blessed**

Ginny had never seen Professor Albus Dumbledore this disconnected before, never seen him having less than complete control over the situation. She walked to the Headmaster and quietly clutched his shaking hand. Tilting his face upward, she looked him deep in the eye. "Professor Dumbledore, you _need _to tell us what is going on here. Where are Leah and Rachel?" 

"Take me to your living room, please, Ms. Weasley," he requested. Ginny led him to the entertainment room where they had Draco's business colleagues over for dinner. As the three of them sat down, Draco, visibly trembling, managed to sit in the Levitating Lounger (currently off) while Ginny and Dumbledore occupied the sofa. Dumbledore removed a potion from his robes. "Ms. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy, please imbibe this, then close your eyes for a minute." Draco shot Dumbledore a suspicious look. "_Please, _Mr. Malfoy, do as I ask. A sip will suffice."

Ginny eyed Draco, then drank for a second before passing the little black bottle to her husband. Draco eyed the bottle before drinking the very unappealing, gelatinous substance. He closed his eyes, and waited. 

Blackness. Nothing.

**I know you're still just a dream**

**Your eyes might be green**

**Or the bluest that I've ever seen**

**Anyway, you'll be blessed**

Then, it started. A flash of light. 

_He could see Hogsmeade's City Center Gardens, he was standing beside Ginny. Clad in a white dress. Looking like innocence itself, a slight bump at her center. _

_It was his wedding day. And in front of him were his two babies – but this didn't look familiar. He remembered what he could about his wedding day. He had never been able to remember much about it – the effects of getting piss drunk the night before, he had always figured. Except, he had never recalled actually drinking any Muggle alcohol the previous night._

_Why were his girls standing in front of him on his wedding day?_

_Leah and Rachel were admiring the flowers that grew outside Town Hall. Pinks and greens and blues and violets and oranges. And on the far left part of the bush were two very solitary flowers sitting by themselves, one red, the other yellow._

_Leah stared at a red, higher than the yellow, touching it lightly, bending down so her hair was at its level. "It sort of matches our hair, doesn't it, Mum?" she asked, gesturing to her mother. Only he couldn't hear her actually saying the words. Her lips moved, and he could hear her voice in his head, an echo almost, but the sound was not coming from her._

_He saw Ginny nodding, smiling, twirling a strand of her own hair. _

_Rachel walked up to the flower, laying one of her mouse-like hands on the yellow petals of the flower underneath Leah's red one. "Poor flowers, they don't have any ones that match them! They must be lonely!" Rachel's echo said._

_"They're not lonely, Rachie," Leah explained quietly, her voice almost breathy and far away somewhere in Draco's own head. "Look at the flowers. There are so many of the other kinds that they all get put together. You see ALL the blue flowers, not each blue flower – but how lucky are these two flowers? The yellow flower and the red flower get all the attention reserved for a BUNCH of yellow flowers and red flowers all to themselves because they're special, and unique, and beautiful – just like you." She touched Rachel on the nose lightly._

_"And you!" Rachel's echo responded, doing the same thing to Leah._

_"So you might think they're all by themselves, but look at what these flowers decided to do? They found each other, they've decided to be friends. On a bush full of flowers that are all the same, what are the chances that these two individual flowers would grow right next to each other? 'Cause they may be different – the red and the yellow – but they are going to get to know something that's completely different from themselves. They are going to share a journey. They're going to grow together." _

_Draco could feel his new bride shyly reach over and clutch his hand, the lace of her white glove soft against his skin as he watched these two little pieces of heaven – pieces of him and his wife, living, breathing connections between him and this girl now sharing his last name. He surveyed the moment, questioning how he ever got so lucky as to have a sneak preview of his life to come. _

_ The bolt of green light was sudden and unexpected._

_Before he could get his wand out, he heard Ginny scream. _

Not in the past, not on his wedding day, but in his time, he could actually HEAR her scream as she sat across from him on the couch. It was no echo. His heart wrenched for his wife.

The screaming was getting louder.

_Ginny, bedecked in white, her mouth wide open, ran backwards towards the girls before she herself doubled over in pain._

_He turned for a split second to see Leah and Rachel lying in front of the bush, absolutely still, looks of terror on their faces, but did not have time to process what was going on. _

_Draco knew who he would face before he even turned his head. He did not process the picture of the girls, there were too many images flashing. Ginny in white. The girls touching the delicate petals. The black and white. The flowers. The green. The girls like stone on the grass._

_ Voldemort was talking. He could hear Voldemort's voice in his mind, the echo, but the image before him just moved its mouth. "**She** was the only obstacle in my search for power," the echo said quite matter-of-factly. _

_"She?" he could hear himself asking pleadingly. "She did nothing to you! My children?" _

_"**Potter's spawn**," the echo remarked bitterly, gesturing with his pointy chin toward the girls. _

_"Potter has no spawn," Draco yelled, tears streaming down his face. "My children! Why my children?"_

_"The older one, born a year exactly after Potter's birthday. The prophecy says, 'He who will defeat the most powerful will gestate for one year.'"_

_"My child! Those children are mine!" _

Ginny's screaming slowly settled into deep, heaving sobs. She was witnessing the same vision as he did, right with him. He could hear her throatily screeching, "Leah! Wake up! Oh, gods, Leah, Rachel, please. Wake up, sprite!"

_"It does not matter whose spawn they were. Power relies on cautiousness. Consider it ample punishment for seceding from the Dark Side, Malfoy. The pain that this will cause you is retribution enough for not following in your father's footsteps and coming to the Side that can most reward you."_

_"These are my children," he yelled futilely. "What good did it do? Dammit, what good did this do?"_

_"Examples. Consider those brats examples. If **she** was not the one who could defeat me, then why did Dumbledore have a need to hide **her** from me? Across time no less? Your so-called supreme Headmaster acted very suspiciously. Suspicious actions are rewarded with hasty reactions. Do relay that thought to your beloved Headmaster." _

_He laughed heartily before Apparating from the garden._

Draco opened his moist eyes. The girls. Where were the girls? He could barely breathe. The scene had been_ that _intense. He looked around suddenly, and saw Ginny being held by Dumbledore, her cheeks red, gasping for breath. He hopped out of his chair.

"What does that mean? Where are the girls, Dumbledore, dammit?" 

**And you, you'll be blessed**

**You'll have the best**

**I promise you that**  
  


Dumbledore took a deep breath before proceeding. "You were just given an Obliviate reversal potion. They are rare in the wizarding world, but not impossible to come by. I felt that you needed to see what happened, the truth. Voldemort was looking for Leah. I knew he would, considering the fact that Ms. Weasley was widely known to be quite friendly with the late Mr. Potter. He would be suspicious when Miss Malfoy was born on Harry's birthday, a year to the date of his birth, and ironically, his death. In Lord Voldemort's reasoning, Leah could very well be Mr. Potter's, if she had been in utero one year, so he decided he needed to eradicate the world of this potential enemy. It is not widely known that there exists a tale, a prophecy of sorts, passed down for generations. You heard him repeat it, 'He who will defeat the most powerful will gestate for one year.' If young Miss Malfoy were indeed Mr. Potter's heir, then, a Soul Exchange would have occurred, on top of the fact that she were carried for one year. The fact that there may _be _a potential enemy was basis enough for Voldemort to act. There has never _been _a most powerful prior to Lord Voldemort, the wizarding world lived in a certain peace taken for granted - so the prophecy had never been tested. Salazar Slytherin mentioned numerous times in his writings, so it would make sense that his heir would pay some attention to it. Not just an old wives' tale. I thought that while Voldemort was powerful, he was not so powerful to see across time, so I brought the girls back thirteen years ago – at the precise moment when you two commenced your relationship. When I could be the most beneficial and pay the most attention to the girls. I just never. . ." He looked frantically into Draco's gray eyes. "He knew. He was suspicious. He knew. He knew where to look. I couldn't save them. It didn't matter where I brought them, what time, if I kept them in the present, he would have gained access to them too. . ."

Ginny was trying to understand. Trying desperately to make sense of this fiasco. "But where are the girls? This happened in the past? They're not. . ."

Dumbledore nodded his head, his beard bouncing with the movement, tears falling to the Afghan carpet.

"But I was pregnant. . . I mean, even if the girls. . .and the Killing Curse. . .I could still give birth . . . " She stopped talking, trying to find some space. Trying to find the strength to breathe. Trying urgently to hide herself from the obvious.

"Miss Weasley," Dumbledore calmly said, "life is nothing but numerous lines running parallel to each other. Every new decision creates new consequences, a new path for the line." He adjusted his glasses. "My decision was to send those girls back in time, your and Mr. Malfoy's decision was to get involved – create those little girls, Voldemort's decision was to attack two innocents. But some things are out of our control. . ."

"The girls?. . ." Ginny attempted stupidly. "I was pregnant. They're not here. . ."

"While bodies can jump time, Miss Weasley, souls do not. A soul exists apart from this life, apart from time itself. When a soul dies, when a soul is killed, it ceases to be. It just ends. Rachel was extinguished quickly, her soul lost forever. Twelve-year-old Leah shared a soul with that baby you were carrying. When she died. . ."

"I miscarried," she contributed, her voice shaky, the wetness drenching her black robes, her hands going to her abdomen, as she recalled the feeling of being pregnant, hoping against hope that a small bump – a small life – would be there right now.

"Time is a tricky thing, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said quietly. "The truth is exposed, and thusly, the present is affected. I offered you a glimpse of the painful truth. The outcome of this is that this truth exists for nobody but you two. He killed those girls, he was determined to kill those girls." Dumbledore's voice went acidic. "That bastard, the Dark Lord, slaughtered those girls. . . and try as I might, there was nothing I could have done to save them." 

**I'll pick a star from the sky**

**Pull your name from a hat**

**I promise you that . . .**

Dumbledore continued in an unsteady voice. The story needed to be told. "After the girls were murdered by the Dark Lord, I summoned an Obliviator to erase it from your memory. Not just their deaths, though. Their whole presence in your lives. As was anyone who ever had direct contact with the young Miss Malfoys. Your friend, Ms. Krishnamurthy, Miss Parkinson, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and your brother, Hagrid. They all gave a piece of themselves to those children, but I could not bear to watch them deal with their deaths, so any interaction with the Miss Malfoys were eliminated from their memories. Anyone who did not have a connection to the Miss Malfoys, classmates, professors, never really noticed their missing, and the fact was that the girls became an afterthought. There were numerous children in Hogwarts. It is now, though, that those people who loved those girls, who knew those girls in their own time will have to deal with their deaths."

**Promise you that . . .**

Draco looked at Dumbledore distraughtly. "There must be something you can do, anything? I'll donate any amount you want, Professor, to Hogwarts. You're powerful, there must be something. . ."

**Promise you that . . .**

He held up a hand furrowed with age. "Please, stop, Mr. Malfoy. There is nothing that can be done. The fact is that there is no way to reverse the Killing Curse, and I'm sure, given time to ingest the information, you will reach the same conclusion. If you'll excuse me, I am sure you and your wife need your time to grieve. I will depart." Dumbledore unsteadily got up from the sofa, his weight – the weight of the day, the brevity of the situation, perhaps – making him rely even more heavily on the cane he sported nowadays. He slowly walked toward the front door, opening it with his wand, before pausing and looking back at his former students. "I am sorry, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Weasley," he whispered before closing the door behind him.

**You'll be blessed**   
  


Draco rose unsteadily from the couch, almost not feeling the situation. As if it were a dream. As if the world he existed in did not hold the cruelty he had just experienced. 

Blissful apathy consumed him for a moment as he stared at his wife.

Ginny was in a fetal position on the couch, bawling, gasping for breath. She looked as Draco felt - as he attempted to picture a life without his girls – who did nothing to deserve this fate except being the Malfoy heirs, his children, his BABIES.

**I need you before I get old**

**To have and to hold**  
  


He wanted to comfort her, he wanted to take her into his arms and hold her. Gods, he missed his girls and his wife. . . 

"Gin?" he asked quietly. 

She held up a hand much like Dumbledore had done earlier. "D-don't. . . just don't t-talk to me right n-now," she whispered pleadingly. "Y-you are the l-last person I w-want to s-see right n-now." The thoughts in her head were running just as rampantly as the tears down her face. "I-I need to go t-talk t-to. . . I-I need to get out of here." 

Draco's face hardened as he stared at her - this wife of his who had every known luxury at her disposal for the last thirteen years. This wife of his who was sobbing on the living room sofa, who finally knew what it was like to be alone. Not even Potter's memory could shield her now. 

"You're going to Potter?" he queried icily.

She did not deny it, looking down silently as she choked on her tears.

He couldn't FEEL much at this moment – the loss of his daughters had not quite hit him yet - but he derived a certain sadistic pleasure at seeing this wife of his feel the solitude he had known every day for the last thirteen years in this pathetic excuse of a marital union. No matter what he did for those girls, he could never compensate for what a mother was supposed to give them. Those children had loved her so much for so many years, and now that they were gone, all she had ahead of her was a lifetime of regret. 

He laughed scornfully, the first tears falling down his cheeks. "Am I the only one who finds it ironic that my own beloved wife would rather mourn the loss of her daughters with a slab of stone instead of with her own husband – the father of her children?"

She did not respond to his words, but stood up, grabbing the cardigan lying next to her.

"Sit down," he whispered bitterly, his voice dripping with antipathy. She complied wordlessly. The unsaid dammed up for years came rolling out in a current of misery. "I gave you _everything._"

He wanted to make her understand his desolation. 

To make her experience a lifetime of silence in one moment. 

To make her comprehend what it is like to play second fiddle to a corpse. 

To make her know what it was like to be him. 

"You took _everything_ from me. Look at me, dear wife, look at me!" he commanded.

Ginny stared up at him, startled at his tone of voice, her crying ceasing for a moment. 

"I have _nothing_ left – my daughters are dead, my mother is dead, my father is in Azkaban. I have _nothing._ I spent the last thirteen years of my life in competition with a dead boy for _my own wife's affections_." His fists clenched in frustration as he stared at his wedding ring. It felt like hot metal burning a hole through his finger. 

She opened her mouth to say something, and he knew what it was before she'd even spoken a syllable. 

"Stop, Ginny, just stop. It always comes back to that same argument, doesn't it, Ginny? You never denied me sexually. Do you think someone should throw you a parade because of that, Gin, do you? You may have spread your legs for me, but you think I didn't know that it was Potter you thought about? You think I didn't hear you call out Potter's name? 

"I HAVE BEEN HERE FOR YOU EVERYDAY FOR THE LAST THIRTEEN YEARS, DAMMIT. ME! THIS FLESH AND BONE WIZARD STANDING IN FRONT OF YOU – NOT POTTER, ME! Those children of ours – OURS - adored you, Ginny, they worshipped the ground you walked on, but you were too busy worshipping Saint Potter to notice. I hope you spend the rest of your natural born life knowing that for thirteen years you had it good, so good. And what did you do? You threw it all away to deify a boy who never loved you back. "

Throwing his wedding ring at her, he walked out of the living room and toward the front door, because, really, there was no reason for him to remain here, at this place – this place that used to be his home.

**To walk with you and watch you grow **

**I swear you'll be blessed**

~*~FIN~*~

Please read the author's note, posted next.


	16. Author's Letter

Author's Letter:

I work in two modes: lazy and lazier, as I told a fanfic buddy of mine, Isa (who writes some great stories, "Little Nicky" and "My Family" – check it out if you're in the mood for a chuckle and for the last time, is NOT a sick person for liking my angsty, painful stories). I never thought I would finish this fic so I surprised myself when I wrote the conclusion, sat back, reread it, and thought, "Hey, I'm done. This story has an end!"

Thank you so much, all of you, for investing so much time in this, my first real piece of longer HP fanfiction. 74 pages of Times New Roman text, size 12. Wow! It has been a rather wild ride for me.

Leah and Rachel were borne of my heart. They were everything I could ever hope Draco and Ginny's children would be like and writing that last chapter absolutely broke my heart. I have never actually cried writing a piece of fanfiction (and I've written some pretty disturbing fanfiction, mind you [can anyone say "In the Nighttime"?]), but they say there is a first time for everything.

I am sure any number of you, my beloved readers, were fully expecting an unhappy ending, judging from the reviews I received toward the end of the story. While I alluded to the fact that D/G were married unhappily in the beginning of the story (chapters 1 and 2) and in the interlude ("You're Gone," chapter 9), I assume most of you figured that said unhappy ending would be the final destruction of the Weasley/Malfoy union. And I know the majority of you are still trying to figure out WHY Ginny was still in love with Harry. Let me break it down for you: Harry died young, Ginny slept with Draco hastily. All she had left was to idealize and dream about what might have been. And Ginny is sure that what might have been is a whole lot better than what she has now. If _what is _is not good enough for her, then _what might have been_ should more than satisfy her, so she spends her time dreaming of this complete life she lacks. 

Whether you swear, punch, moan, applaud, yell, whatever – just REACT when you type those words out in the review box. Flame me, tell me to throw myself off the Astronomy Tower for writing such a long piece of crap that wasted your time -  it doesn't matter because I will know my work affected you at least well enough to elicit a reaction from you! If you don't review my work, review somebody else's then! Just review, give these great authors a pat on the back, a job well done because most authors, like me, salivate for reviews.

Love, SnapeJuice


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